


Marked For Eternity

by rubinjuwel



Category: Batim - Fandom, Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, MFE au, Marked For Eternity, Marked For Eternity au, Mention of Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, batim au, graphic description of body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubinjuwel/pseuds/rubinjuwel
Summary: Henry expected to be spending the weekend with his family, like always.Now he's stuck in a place he never wanted to see again, with a strange mark on his hand and a demon by his side, fighting what's left of his former friends and co-workers.(no loop)
Relationships: Henry Stein/Linda Stein
Comments: 27
Kudos: 47





	1. Blink And You Miss It

**Author's Note:**

> Canon is nothing but my color pallette from which I chose my favorite colors and then threw the rest out the window.  
> I will immediately say that there won't be a loop in this one and that I've also changed some of the in game explanations for stuff.
> 
> I've never written before so constructive criticism is accepted and very much appreciated.  
> Have Fun!

It was a beautiful spring Saturday when Henry Stein came home from work and parked the car in the garage. Everything was just starting to turn green again and the birds were chirping happily, not just in search for a partner but also because Linda had put out some bird feeders to make sure the little creatures paid attention to their garden and ate all the bugs.

The old animator was humming a soft tune as he got out of the car, locked the garage and checked the mailbox for anything new. There were indeed a few letters, mostly bills, but there was one that stuck out. It was made from old yellowed paper, with a handwritten address and no sender. The writing seemed familiar but he couldn’t figure out from where. 

As he walked to the door he heard a loud meow and looked down to see a chocolatey, almost black fur ball strut towards him. 

“Hey there you little rascal”, with a hum, he knelt down to pet the big cat now rubbing against his right leg. He raised his brow at the many petals covering his fur, “Just what have you been doing again?”

He tried to brush them off, only for Jacky to suddenly swipe at him and complain loudly.    
  
“Woah! Hey now, no need to get mad! I’m just trying to help clean you up.”

The cat answered with a very pouty sounding meow, making him huff and shake his head, “Alright then, I get it. You want to keep the petals. But you’re not getting inside looking like that. I don’t want to have those lying around everywhere.”

That got him yelled at. But when he actually refused to let the little shadow into the house, he was finally allowed to clean the sulking cat. Only when the last petal was brushed off did Henry let him inside, where he beelined to his water bowl. 

“HEY GUYS! I’M HOME!”

No answer, except the quiet lapping sounds of Jacky drinking.

He dropped his bag next to the door to take care of later, then put all of the letters onto the drawer next to the wardrobe, but decided to keep the odd one out. Making his way through the living room, he took a look out the glass backdoor, now spotting the rest of his family. Linda was tending to her garden, probably planting the tomatoes she had been raising for the past few weeks, and their daughter Lacie was helping her. The smallest family members, their granddaughters Flora and Grace, were currently entertaining themselves by digging through the special patch Linda always left empty just for them. They had even brought along their Bendy, Boris and Alice plushies.

He stepped out onto the porch, “What? No one coming to say hi to the old man?” 

The girl’s heads immediately shot up from their little project and they started beaming. “OPA! You’re back!” They didn’t even bother to get the dirt off their clothes as they scrambled out of their little corner and Henry couldn’t help but notice that their faces were also covered in mud.

He crouched down to hug the two and they snuggled into him, kissing his cheeks, a gesture he happily returned. 

“So what have my little mouses been doing while I was gone?”

“We’re trying to dig up fossils!” Flora grinned, practically bouncing up his leg in excitement.

“Oh? Have you found any yet?”

“No, because Boris keeps eating SANDwiches instead of helping”

Grace groaned at her sister while Henry chuckled, “Are you sure he ate them calmly? I would have expected him to _ wolf _ them down.”

“Opaaaaa!” Grace groaned again while Flora started giggling like a little madman.

“Oh come on, that was a good one!”

She just shot her grandfather an annoyed look and puffed her cheeks a little.

“Alright, alright, no more puns,” he gave in, lifting his hands placately, “At least not until lunch.”

“Oh boy, I can already hear the pun war starting.” Lacie had come over now, with a grinning Linda not far behind. “Do you want to know what else they did? Give Jacky a makeover, that’s what. The patience of that cat is truly amazing. Every other cat I know would have run off the moment they brought the petals over.”

“Ah. So that’s why he was looking like that?”, he asked while pulling her in for a hug and kiss as well.

She nodded and kissed him back, making an exaggerated smooch sound. 

Grace beamed up at him, “He loved it! He didn’t move an inch until we were done!”

“I can attest to that.” Linda shook her head, her shoulder length curls bouncing about despite the hair clip “You should have seen the way he was strutting through the garden once they were done. He kept yelling at us until we looked at him and told him how wonderful he looked.”

“Why am I not surprised” He shook his head in amusement as well, then gave his wife the same treatment.

“I see your aim is as bad as ever.” Chuckling, she kissed him again, going for the mouth this time.

He just grinned, “Why should I improve if my bad aim is rewarded?”

“Oh? Is someone trying to be sneaky? That’s going to have consequences good sir!” With that she started showering his face in little kisses, making Lacie and the girls laugh at the two.

“Aaaaah, nooooo, I’m going to end up with so much more freckles because of you!”

“What?” She raised her eyebrow at him.

“I’m pretty sure I heard somewhere that freckles are supposed to be the kisses of angels.”

Linda just laughed but he didn’t miss the soft pink hue on her cheeks. He just grinned and put an arm around her as they watched the girls hop back into their sandbox. He really hoped they didn’t get any sand into their hair, it was so difficult to get out. Why did black folk have hair that curly anyways?

He turned to Lacie and Linda, “I see the two of you are already hard at work?”

Lacie nodded, “Yeah, I just couldn’t let mom take care of all these tomatoes on her own. She raised way too many.”

“In my defense I wasn’t expecting all of them to make it and several of them were gifts for you and your sister.”

“A gift I’m grateful for but with how many we’ve already planted I’m pretty sure you’re gonna give us an abundance of ripe tomatoes anyways! Didn’t you learn anything from last year?”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t, did you see the zucchini plants? She bought even more this time.” He interjected before she could anwser.

Linda just huffed at the two, “What I did was calculated! Last year we didn’t have enough to bring Hazel any. Now we do.” She looked at his hand, now noticing the letter, “What’s that by the way?”

“Oh, that, it’s a letter.” He held it out for her as she took it, “It doesn’t have a sender and the paper looks pretty old. The handwriting looks familiar but I don’t recognize it. Do you have any idea who it could be from?”

“No clue, I don’t know anybody who writes like this or owns paper this old.”

“Same here.” Lacie added.

“Guess we’ll see when I open it.”, he hummed and put it into his pocket “But! I’m going to make us some lunch first. Does spaghetti sound good?”

“Oh right! Lunch”, Lacie sighed, “I wanted to start already to take some work off your hands, but we completely lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m always happy to spend some time in the kitchen. Besides, you’re here to relax, not stress yourself even more. I still remember how much work waising you and Cecilia was and I had Linda to help me. I can only imagine how difficult being a single mother is.”

Linda nodded in agreement, “And it’s much better to have your help with the more physical work anyways. I hate to admit it, but my age is catching up.”

He nodded to that as well. Both he and Linda had managed to hold themselves up pretty well, they were doing much better than most people in their mid 50s. Still, no amount of healthy eating and sport could completely stop the effects of aging. Both of them already started greying a while ago, although Linda’s dark brown hair was already halfway there while he had somehow managed to retain most of his red colour despite being older than her by two years. Most of the grey around his temples had actually come from the stress of serving as a fighter pilot too. He had been drafted but was discharged after crashing and losing his left leg. It had to be amputated a few inches above the knee. It took a bit to get used to, but nowadays he was using a prosthetic, which worked nearly as well as his old leg. Hard to believe that it had been over 15 years since then.

Lacie gave them a grateful look, “Alright, you win. Spaghetti sounds great.”

“Wonderful! Then I’ll leave the two of you to the tomatoes. I’ll call you when I’m done.” 

He gave them each another kiss, then headed inside while they went back to finish their work.

He placed the letter onto the table before finally taking off his shoes. After washing his hands and face, he went to heat up some water and properly put his bag away. While waiting, his eyes wandered over to the letter.

It couldn’t hurt to take a look already, could it?

His curiosity got the better of him as he opened the envelope and carefully pulled the letter out to read it.

Everything went to black.

Henry blinked. 

He was standing in a long wooden hallway lined with old, yellowing posters of Bendy The Dancing Demon and Boris The Friendly Wolf. 

The air smelled of old wood, dust and ink.

Behind him, there was the creaking sound of a door closing.

His head snapped around but the door was already shut. He ran over immediately, frantically wriggling the doorknob. It refused to budge and neither pushing nor pulling worked.

How could it be locked already when it just closed?

He stood there for at least thirty seconds trying to get the door to move but to no avail.

Then he just stared at it, confused. Where was he? How did he get here? He tried to remember the last thing he did but the only thing his memories gave him was opening the letter. Then just darkness. He didn’t even remember what was written on it. 

He checked his watch. 4pm. It had been noon just a moment ago, how was it suddenly 4pm??? 

Oddly enough, he was wearing his shoes again. Hadn’t he taken them off? 

He rummaged through his pockets. Maybe there was something in there that could help him out. The little sage candies he always kept there were definitely useful. He was in desperate need of some sugar after not eating for several hours. Other than that he only found his swiss army knife, wallet, car keys, the normal army knife on his belt as well as the letter and envelope. Both were completely crumpled up, as if he had just shoved them in there in a hurry. His house keys, however, were missing.

Wherever those were, the letter might help him figure out where  _ he _ was. Let’s just hope he doesn’t black out again. 

_ Dear Henry, _

_ it seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. _

_ 30 years really slips away, doesn’t it. _

_ If you’re back in town, come visit the old workshop. _

_ There’s something I need to show you. _

_ Your best pal, Joey Drew _

Your best pal, Joey Drew??? The last time Henry had seen that treacherous tomato they had had a big shouting match and he quit the studio steaming like a sauna!

And he had last tried to  _ contact _ Joey or his friends 27 years ago, not 30. Sure, a little rounding up wasn’t all that wrong but Joey had always been so precise about everything. 

Maybe he never got the letters? No, he had to have gotten at least one with how many Henry had sent both to his private address and the studio. Not to mention that he had called a few times and when Joey had finally picked up he had immediately hung up on him. After that he gave up on hearing from them. Especially after the last of his friends went missing and the studio went bankrupt about a year after.

Was he really back in the studio? 

Henry turned around to get another look at the hallway. It was still lined with those posters and now that he was paying attention he recognized the titles of the cartoons. “The Dancing Demon”, “Little Devil Darlin’ ”, he could even see a “Sheep Songs” poster further down. They were all old permier episodes he had animated himself in order to introduce his characters to the world.

Weirdly enough, the entire hallway looked like it was made from old yellowed paper. The texture of the wood didn’t help that impression, it almost seemed as though he was standing inside an old sketch. The only thing out of place was the little red dot in the upper corner at the end of the hallway. It belonged to a small black camera, facing his direction. Past that doorway, he could see a much bigger room, with some pillars in the middle, what seemed to be furniture strewn about and a big square light on the left.

The sound of dripping, a quiet whirring and the loud clacking of moving gears echoed through the empty halls.

It looked nothing like it did when he left.

Henry stared for another moment and then pinched his hand. It hurt but the hallway stayed the same. 

He looked at his watch again. A couple of minutes had gone by but it was still 4pm. Looks like he wasn’t dreaming.

He looked back at the hallway, then at the door. He tried to open it again. It still didn’t budge.

He checked the letter again. Something was off. There seemed to be something written around the edge of the paper, all the way around, without a single break or pause. Was that a watermark? He held it against the light over the door but even though he could now make out the symbols more clearly he didn’t recognize them. They looked like runes of some kind.

Shaking his head he put the letter back in his pocket. This time he folded it properly. Standing around and staring wouldn’t help him figure this out. 

He turned around and faced the studio with a sigh.

“Alright Joey, I’m here. Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.”


	2. Where's Henry?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know where Henry is, but does Linda?

Linda watched her husband go back inside and then turned around to continue her work with their daughter. 

Their garden was pretty big and surrounded by equally big hedges since their next door neighbors were incredibly nosy and the Stein’s got sick of that very quickly. There had also been a few incidents of people trying to steal some of Linda’s crops.

Those were her pride and joy, so she spent a lot of time in their garden and used every available patch for her little projects.

There were several patches for crops like carrots, salads or potatoes on the left, including some raised beds. Linda had added a single one she never used just so Grace and Flora could play around in it. The one in front of the porch, however, was filled with her second most valuable plants: all sorts of herbs she and Henry often used for cooking as well as experimenting with tea. That wasn’t the only thing there though, because the herbs were only on the left side. Along the entire right side of their porch she put a bed filled with roses, some succulents and a bit of lavender.

On the right was the relax-part of the garden with mostly empty space so they could set up hammocks or tables or a grill. In between were a few patches filled with several wildflowers for some color. There was also a small walnut tree which was Henry’s favourite. Not much of a surprise considering how many walnuts he used in his baking. They had gotten rid of the permanent sandbox in the upper right corner after their daughters grew out of it, instead replacing it with a young cherry tree Linda was very proud of. It was still young though and, as useful as the birds were by eating the bugs and snails, the Steins still haven’t had a good cherry harvest because the critters were always just a little too fast, but the ones they had gotten tasted incredible. 

Their walnut wasn’t their only tree though, they also had a big birch right in the middle and a small hazelnut tree almost a little too close to the crops.

Linda’s tools were kept in a big wooden hut at the back of the garden. Next to it was a barrel to catch the rainwater she primarily used, but they also had a long garden hose next to the porch.

After a few minutes of planting tomatoes, as well as keeping an eye on the girls, she heard someone open their garage, then a car start up and drive away. That was… weird. Henry had wanted to make lunch, if he had suddenly needed to go somewhere he would have told them before leaving. And he would have shut the garage again. She looked over at Lacie who didn’t seem to have noticed.

Did someone steal their car? No, that couldn’t be. Henry would have a good view of the street from the kitchen window so he would have noticed someone trying to get into the garage and scared them away. At the very least he would be outside by now to tell her about it. Besides, who would steal a car in broad daylight?

Maybe it was a different garage, everybody on the street had one after all. Nothing was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

Something was wrong. 

Linda got up and excused herself, saying that she had to use the restroom for a moment. Once inside she could hear water boiling in the kitchen but other than that it was quiet. No rustling, no one going through the cupboards, not even the kitchen vent even though Henry always made sure to have it on while something was boiling on the stove.

“Henry?”

No answer.

Linda stepped into the kitchen. No one was there, but there was a pot filled with boiling water on the stove and a pack of spaghetti lying on the counter. When she looked out the window she could see that the garage door and front gate were wide open. After turning off the stove she went into the hallway. No one was there and the front door was closed.

“Henry?” a little louder and a tinge of worry in her voice this time.

Still no answer.

Linda looked back into the kitchen, then down the hall. Maybe he was just using the restroom and couldn’t hear her. 

After a second of contemplating if she was just worrying too much over nothing she went to their bathroom to check. The door was open and no Henry in sight. She went back into the hall and as she took her keys she saw that Henry’s house and car keys were missing. A closer look revealed that a pair of his shoes was gone as well but his jacket was still hanging in the wardrobe. There were also a few letters lying on the drawer. 

Now thoroughly worried, she stepped outside and went to the garage. Henry’s keys were stuck in the lock but both him and the car were missing.

Where was he?

Linda took a look down both sides of the road but couldn’t spot her husband. There was a couple watching their children play in a front yard on the other side of the road. They looked calm but gave her odd looks. Even a closer look into the garage didn’t reveal anything about where he could have gone. She closed and locked it, took Henry’s keys and headed back inside, where she went through the house again becoming more and more worried, calling his name over and over, looking into every room. She still couldn’t find him.

As she stood in the hallway, not knowing what to do, her eyes fixated on the letters on the drawer. After a few seconds of wondering if those were even important she went over to examine them. She had nothing else, at least checking would stop her from wondering if she missed something.

They were all bills, nothing of importance or worth noting.

Wait.

Where was that odd letter? The one Henry had shown her. The one without a sender.

Linda went through the pack of letters again. Not here.

There was nothing in the drawer either and even after looking through the kitchen and into the living room table she still hadn’t found it.

Now she stood in the living room, absolutely lost. Her husband had suddenly vanished without so much as a word or note, their car was gone and she couldn’t find the only thing that could possibly tell her why.

“Mom? Is everything alright?”

Linda’s eyes snapped up at her daughter. Lacie was standing in the door giving her a worried look.

“Where’s dad? I thought he wanted to make lunch?”

“I… don’t know. I heard somebody open the garage and drive off so I went to check, but I can’t find him. His shoes and keys are missing, so is the car, but he didn’t leave a note.”

Lacie was now looking just as confused as she did. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She took a deep breath, “How about I start cooking something and you go watch the girls? Maybe it was an emergency and he just forgot to say something and will call once he’s done. He did have to drive Mr Wolkenhauer to the hospital before.”

Linda nodded silently and left her daughter to the stove. She wasn’t as hungry as she had been before.

Once that rotten walnut was back home he had a lot of explaining to do.

It had been an hour now and Henry was still gone. Of course the girls had asked about their grandfather when they had lunch, but for now they had just told them the emergency story. It worked well enough and after lunch they had retreated into their room while Linda and Lacie went around the house again looking for any clue about where he could have gone. After that search hadn’t born any fruit they both went into the garage again. 

They had found nothing there or in their front yard either.

Now Linda was pacing through the living room while Lacie was sitting silently on the couch. 

She was starting to get mad at the stunt Henry was pulling. Making several dozens of origami animals with Flora and hiding them all over the house was one thing but just vanishing without a word or note was another in its entirety. It wasn’t like him at all. No matter where or when he had to leave, he would _always_ make sure she knew where he was.

Why would he suddenly not say anything? Why did he leave the boiling pot on the stove? Why had he left the garage open and his keys in the lock?

The only thing she could think of that could possibly give them some answers was the odd letter but no matter where she looked she couldn’t find it. Henry had probably taken it with him for whatever reason.

Lacie got up abruptly, snapping Linda out of her spiral, “I’m calling Cecilia. Maybe he went to her place.”

That sounded logical. She didn’t live too far away with a few friends.

However, she didn’t know anything either. She had suggested to inform the police, but considering the neighbours' calm reaction he had probably left on his own accord. Could you really report somebody missing who had left the house for over an hour without saying something? None of them knew, so they decided to wait until 6pm. 

Until then, there was nothing they could do.

Lacie ended up entertaining the girls and Jacky while Linda got some housework done. They had dinner around 5pm and this time it was Flora who asked about her grandfather. At this point neither Linda nor Lacie could hide their worry anymore so both girls saw through their white lies. 

The clock struck 6pm much too quickly.

Henry still wasn’t home.

Quietly, Linda stood up from the board game they were playing and went to call 911 with shaking hands.


	3. Welcome to the studio of broken dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry finds himself trapped in the old workshop, trying to find a way out.  
> Maybe turning on that odd machine will help?

The workshop looked like it had been abandoned for years. 

There were cobwebs and dust everywhere. Henry could even see a few dust balls float around the air. Not to mention the yellowing posters and wallpaper. Some of the wooden boards that made up the floor were completely askew or just weirdly nailed on top of the others. In addition to the odd woodwork he could see a giant tear in the left wall that almost reached the ceiling and had only been haphazardly patched up with a few boards. It looked almost like a black hole.

There was also an incredibly strong ink smell. Sure, it was an animation studio and they used ink for animating but the smell had never been this strong when Henry was still around. Not to mention that this was the entrance, not the art department.

Moreover, the smell wasn’t even supposed to be this strong considering how toxic ink fumes were. There were supposed to be vents or at least windows to let in some fresh air. And why was there ink dripping from the ceiling of all places?

He had to either get out or find a room with working vents before he passed out or started hallucinating from the fumes. 

Maybe he already was?

No. None of that. Not right now.

Concentrating on what was lying ahead again Henry went into the big hall opening up before him while glaring at the camera. It moved as he went past it. Considering that it had been completely still for several moments, Joey was probably watching from somewhere. 

When he entered the hall, two more hallways caught his eye, one to his left with another door next to it and one to his right.

Guess they changed the layout.

Next to the one on his right was a big box and the source of the moving gear noises. 

A giant, working version of the studio logo was imbedded into the wall behind a little fence, separating its own little alcove from the rest of the room. It was made from three moving film reels, two smaller ones and a bigger one in the middle, with a long plank on top with “Joey Drew Studios” written on it in capital letters. He could even see curtains tucked into the corners.

He definitely didn’t remember having that when he left. And shouldn’t that be on the back wall behind a big desk with a secretary instead of the right wall?

In fact, there wasn’t even such a big desk. Only a little one in the right corner with another camera above it and one between two pillars in the middle. Both had wooden chairs made from weirdly bent boards next to them. 

Now that he was closer he noticed that the square light in the left corner was coming from a projector on a little table. Directly next to it was a big cutout of Bendy as well as another door in the left wall.

He had never liked the cutouts. Their smile looked too strained, their pose felt unnatural and their proportions were far too different from the cartoons. Even now the pie cut eyes seemed to be watching him intently from the other end of the big hall.

He shook his head. It was only a cutout.

While trying to figure out where to go next he heard another sound that definitely wasn’t the gears. Very quiet and barely audible brass music rang through the room, much too quiet to pinpoint its source. 

It had a deep steady beat, probably a bigger instrument, as well as a second, more melodious sounding one playing over it. 

Stepping further into the hall, he took a look down the other hallways. The one on the left had a shelf on the right wall and split into two different paths after just a few steps. The one on the right also split into two immediately, one parallel to the entrance hallway and the other apparently went into the room behind the gears. He couldn’t see much of that one except for another big tear in the wall because a big drawer was blocking his view.

With another look through the room his eyes locked onto the strangely blocky projector and he got an idea. The easiest way through a locked door was either with a key or, if you didn’t have the materials for lockpicking, by breaking off the handle. The projector should be heavy enough for that.

Taking a few steps, he caught another red dot in the corner of his eyes. There was a third camera in the left corner next to him. Talk about overkill. 

As he got closer to the projector he was able to see a big speaker sitting on a chair next to it. It was the source of the brass music. The projector itself had two moving reels in it, despite not playing a film. It was also bigger than Henry remembered, being about as wide as his torso, which was saying something considering that he wasn’t exactly a small build. He could lift both of his granddaughters, admittedly with a bit of difficulty, but this thing was probably a lot lighter so carrying it shouldn’t be too difficult. Dropping it on the door handle without breaking his toes was another story though. 

He had to find something else then.

The table it was sitting on just reached Henry’s hips and was just wide and long enough for said object. There was a second board below it that had broken off on one side, which didn’t stop it from doing its job apparently, since there was a tin can lying on it.

Pulling it out revealed a big white label on a black background next to a drawing of Bendy.

“Briar Label Bacon Soup”

Henry’s stomach growled loudly.

Oh. Right. He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in at least 5 hours. His gut also told him he left right after reading the letter which meant he probably didn’t even have lunch. Wonderful.

No way was he going to eat this though. For whatever reason, he couldn’t find an expiration date but he knew that they stopped producing those 30 years ago.

Finally putting the can back he turned the projector off with a loud ‘clack’. The moment the light went out, so did the music from the speaker.

He couldn’t help but wonder what cartoon it was supposed to play to.

At least there were many more options around him. If he was lucky either the door behind him or the drawer standing at the middle wall would have some tools in them. The door turned out to be locked, so he went to check the drawer.

As he got closer he realized how odd it looked. Not only were the lower drawers bigger than the upper ones, they were also very asymmetrical. The weirdest thing though was its colouring. It was as sepia toned as the wallpaper with a lot of scribbly lines at the edges and the places where a shadow would be. 

It looked as if it had been taken out of a story board.

When he tried to open it, it felt somewhat like solid wood but slightly different. 

Curiously Henry looked over at the chair by the desk to his right. Its boards looked just as sketchy (heh). Closer inspection revealed that it indeed felt like the drawer. 

When he checked the desk though, it felt like normal wood, despite it looking like a drawing as well.

What was so different about the chair and drawer?

He checked the chair again. Then the desk. Then the chair.

It felt… papery? What?

As confusing as this was, he wouldn’t figure out the reason for the odd texture by staying here and touching the furniture, so he decided to check the inside of the drawer again. The upper one had been locked but what about the others? 

They were also locked. 

Sighing, he turned around to head towards the other hallways, but something stopped him.. Next to the desk was a little waist high table. On it was a drawing of Bendy grinning and waving up at him.

A soft smile came to his lips.

Oh how much he had loved drawing that little devil. 

His smile faltered and he turned around.

Those times were long gone. _Thanks Joey_.

He glared up at the gears as he walked past them.

How had he even managed to convince them to name THEIR studio after himself only? 

Talking probably. He had always been good at that.

Stepping around the corner, Henry froze dead in his tracks.

The words “DREAMS COME TRUE” were written on the wall. There was even more ink dripping from the ceiling and a fallen over chair on the left of the wall. Once again, a camera was watching him from the upper right corner. Below it was a shelf with a projector on it, a big box and another big tear in the wall.

What the hell… 

He remembered Joey’s constant talk of dreams and all the horrible motivational posters but really? Had they run out of money for posters or something? Wouldn’t surprise him but he had no idea why Joey would think this was a good idea. It was more freaky than motivating.

He shook his head and turned his attention to the wall on his right. Now that the corner wasn’t blocking his view anymore he could see the big sign on it.

The first line read “Art department” and pointed to a door on his left he hadn’t seen before because of a drawer standing in the way. The other three all pointed right. “Ink Machine”, “Theater” and “Break Room”.

“Ink Machine”? What was that?

Curiously, he looked past the writing, only now noticing the upbeat music coming from that direction. It was still brass music, but much faster than the other track.

This hallway was very long and badly lit. He could only make out two lights on the left, one brighter than the other, as well as a flickering one at the end and  _ another _ red dot. There was a big black pipe on the right between the floor and ceiling. Also a sticker of Bendy staring into him from the corner.

He glanced back at the sign, then ahead. He was stuck in here anyways, might as well explore. Maybe he would even find Joey. Would be nice to actually see the guy who asked him to visit in the first place. And then somehow managed to make him come over without remembering the trip.

Then again, that last sentence alone made getting out before getting answers the preferable option. Not to mention his suspicion about Joey being the one behind the several dozen people going missing in the studio.

Carefully making his way down the hallway, he slowly managed to make out more of it. There were three doors, two on his right with another camera above the second one. The third door was to his left and the source of both the music and first light. A few steps further next to it was a brightly lit but closed shutter. The hallway continued past said shutter and made a sharp right turn, with the flickering light coming from the corner. A big sign on the ceiling labeled that path as the one going to the ink machine. 

He stopped in front of the door with the light and music, hesitating for a moment.

There was probably somebody in there, Joey most likely. 

He did want answers, but on the other hand, there was something very, very wrong about this situation. Furthermore, his curiosity was the reason he was in this mess in the first place. And if that room was the one all the camera’s were connected to, Joey would be aware of his presence by now. He should be stepping out of that room to welcome him and explain any moment.

Several seconds went by. No one left the room. There weren’t even footsteps or any kind of sound other than the music.

Henry decided to let the door be but kept an eye on it while quietly going towards the ink machine. He stopped again in the corner though, when he saw a big sign saying “Ink Output Schedule”, signed by a T.C. working for a company named Gent. The name sounded familiar but he had no idea where from. Apparently this machine produced an average of 20 gallons of ink and sometimes over 103 and 423. 

Sure, animation studios needed a lot of ink but that was a bit much, wasn’t it?

A fresh breeze brought his attention back to the hallway. It made him glad to be wearing a turtleneck. Continuing, he stepped over a pipe across the floor with a big “Watch Your Step” sign on it. It seemed to be leaking, because there was a big ink stain below it. There was also, once again, a camera. This one was above another drawer in a corner. This one was going left. 

Turning the corner, a giant, light flooded room with a lot of machinery, pipes, vents and several thick chains hanging from the ceiling opened up before him. Henry himself was standing on a little balcony with another cutout, a big chest and a shelf to his left. In front of him was a railing and a big lever with the latter being connected to a mechanical looking box with two spaces in it. The room itself looked a lot like an old barn filled with various boxes, barrels, work tables and shelves. Stepping closer to the railing he could see that either the floor he was currently on was above ground level or the barn was below it. The chains from the ceiling practically vanished in a big square hole on the ground. Despite the bright light shining through the boards he couldn’t see much of it, let alone how deep it was. Technically there were no windows but the spaces between the boards were big enough to let a lot of light as well as some much needed fresh air in. It was also a bit cooler in here than the rest of the studio. He was shivering a little, despite the sweater.

Looking at the lever and the lightning bolt on the machinery next to it made it clear that this was probably a lift and if he wanted to know what the chains were connected to it could use a few dry cells.

He stepped over to the shelf, finding one next to several empty buckets labeled “ink”. The second one was lying in the chest, among other things including a gear almost the size of his torso. Taking both cells he put them into the box, where they clicked into place, activating the machine and making it buzz loudly.

Let’s see what you’re hiding down there “old friend”.

The lever creaked sharply as Henry pulled it. Suddenly the room was filled with the loud creaking, clinking and clanking of moving metal as the gears came to life and slowly pulled at the chains.

He threw a worried glance behind himself, hoping whoever was in that room wasn’t alerted by the sudden noise. He now spotted  **_another_ ** camera right above the entrance. Well that reduced his hope of not being spotted. Knowing this, he shifted most of his attention back to the giant object now rising from the depths of darkness.

Were he standing in front of it, he would have been half its height, probably less. Despite being mostly box shaped, it had a rather dynamic design, with a giant nozzle at the front that was connected to something on its back via a big pipe. Below the nozzle was a small oval and black stained platform with what looked like a drain on it. Several gears adorned its side, although they were probably more than just decoration. The most interesting thing besides its size though, were the giant black pipes connected to its bottom, vanishing into the abyss below.

The machine finished its ascent with loud hissing, letting out a bit of steam. The gears continued moving even though the chains stopped their work, now holding it in place like a giant trophy. 

So this is the ink machine, huh? He couldn’t help but wonder how such a strange contraption worked. However, glancing about the balcony, there didn’t seem to be anything to turn it on. Guess it was a mystery he would never get to solve. 

Turning around, he went back to the shelf and chest to see if those had anything to help open the front door. It seemed his luck had decided to abandon him today. He found nothing but cups, buckets and coat hooks, none of which could pick or break a lock. The grinning cardboard demon next to him seemed to laugh at his dismay.

Sighing he went back the way he came from but stopped dead in his tracks after turning the corner. Both the shutter and the door in front of it were now wide open When had that happened? He looked over to the door he had avoided before. Both the light and music were still on. Whoever was inside either left without turning them off or was still in there. A look down the hallway behind the shutter revealed a new door and another junction. Behind the other newly opened door was a long staircase leading down into what seemed to be the break room. There was a pillar in the way, so he couldn’t see much except a table and chairs.

If these rooms were now open, maybe the front door was too?

Henry turned around but just as he went past the suspicious door a loud ‘clack’ echoed through the halls, the light and music suddenly turning off. His body tensed up, eyes locked onto the door. 

Silence. The door stayed shut.

A loud ‘clang’ rang from somewhere behind him.

He snapped around. He couldn’t tell if that came from the ink machine room or from the new hallway.

He eyed both before turning to the room before him. The loud creaking of the door made him cringe inwardly. No one was inside. It was a small office with just enough room for a desk, chair and two shelves. A big one was crammed into the space next to the desk and filled with several cans of bacon soup. A “Sheep Songs” poster hung on the wall next to it. The other one was just a board nailed into the wall with a lone burning candle on it. On the desk were a piece of paper and a radio. Below it, a record was tucked between the wall and its leg. Above it was a small picture with two music notes. He had been expecting a security room to be honest.

He turned around again. He was still alone.

Now alert, his hand found his belt and he grabbed his army knife. He turned around and quickly made his way to the front door, still being careful about the noise his footsteps made. It was next to impossible that he hadn’t been noticed. Both the ink machine and the creaky doors were way too loud for that. Not to mention the camera’s literally following his every step. But if he really hadn’t then he wouldn’t give up that advantage so easily.

The front door was still locked. Henry glared and suppressed the urge to kick it. The wood was old but still way too sturdy for him to break on his own.

He turned around and looked back into the studio.

He was stuck in an old building filled with ink fumes and no vents in sight. A horrible combination, really. On top of that, he wasn’t alone and so far whoever was in here either hadn’t noticed him or was avoiding him on purpose. Or maybe the ink fumes were making him hallucinate but that was unlikely since the ink machine room was filled with fresh air. Either way he had to get out of here fast. A little fresh air every half hour didn’t make the fumes any more healthy and the room was too cold to stay in too long. His watch also told him that almost an hour had gone by which meant that he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in about 6 hours. Minus the sage candy, but that was really no substitute for proper food. The only available “proper” food in hear was 30 year old, canned bacon soup. Admittedly, cans could hold for a while but he wasn’t sure if they can’t keep their contents edible for that long. 

After a few moments of contemplating between possible food poisoning and going hungry for another while, he decided the latter had the higher chance of survival.

Time to take a look into the newly opened area then. Even though he really wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet that other person. 

As he walked, he could sometimes hear somebody shuffling around, their footsteps making the boards creak. Problem was, the echo of the old and empty halls made it difficult to discern where the sound was coming from. It definitely wasn’t the junction, since that was still empty when he reached it. Curiously, he stared at the camera above his head. It had been trained on him since he entered the hallway, but security cameras often moved in a rhythm to make sure they saw everything. Maybe it wasn’t following him specifically? He went backwards a few steps. The camera followed. Forward again. It followed him. 

Okay, it was following him specifically. But that meant there were at least two people here. The one making the footsteps and the one controlling the cameras. At least one was definitely aware of his presence.

He glared at the camera for another second before going down the new hallway. The door it was leading to was locked and a look down left and right didn’t show him much, other than a new camera on his left. His view of the paths was blocked by a few corners. Interestingly enough there were big black pipes periodically coming out of the wall close to the ceiling and then disappearing into the wall again in both hallways. But the one on his left was notably emptier than the one on his right, which had a little alcove with a cutout, a poster, a chair and another door. Said door was locked as well, but the few steps forward revealed an empty desk tucked away into the corner. The camera above it was once again pointing right at him. 

Might as well continue going this way, he could see another split in the path further ahead.

While walking he glanced up at the poster. It was another “Little Devil Darlin’” one, depicting nothing but text, a few music notes and a big gloved hand. A sudden bang made him snap around, body tensing up, mind racing. Where had that come from? His grip on the knife tightened, knuckles almost turning white. He raised his arms defensively, took a step back, looking for cover. Then he saw a board lying on the floor that hadn’t been there before. A look to the ceiling confirmed his suspicion. The old piece of wood had come loose and clattered to the floor. A sigh escaped his lips and he relaxed a little, dropping his arms again. Just a piece of wood, nothing more. Standing there, he took a few more deep breaths to try and collect himself. His arms were shaking a little. Why did wood hitting wood have to sound so much like gunshots?

It took a few more moments until he felt calm enough to keep going. He pushed the board with his feet until it was at the wall so he wouldn’t trip over it later. Looking back up, his eyes scanned the hallway continuing left but he immediately regretted that action. He carefully walked closer until he stood at the edge of the next room, trying to figure out whether or not his mind was just playing a trick on him.

Oh god. Joey what were you doing?

Before him laid the corpse of Boris the wolf. He was strapped to a propped up dissection table being illuminated from a light below. It looked like somebody was showing off a grizzly trophy. If Henry hadn’t already seen much worse he would have thrown up right then and there. The wolf’s chest was cut open with the ribs sticking out at odd angles. It was completely void of organs. Somebody had decided to stick a wrench in there. His head was tilted to the side, his eyes just two big X’s and his mouth slightly open. He was still wearing his pants, but one of his suspenders was torn and hanging downwards. The table he was lying on seemed to be in some sort of tub that was lowered into the ground. In front of it were a toolbox, a chair and two waist high poles with burning candles on top. A small plant was growing next to the left pole. Only now did he realize that the ground was made of soft soil instead of wood. Looking around he saw tiles on the walls, a shelf and pipe to his left and a working table on his right. “Who’s laughing now?” was written in big black letters on the wall above it. And, as if somebody was trying to mock the disfigured wolf, there was a “Sheep Songs” poster on the wall right next to him. It was the episode Boris premiered in. The most disturbing thing, however, were the bodiless whispers floating through the room. Henry couldn’t make out any words, but he was drawn closer and closer, the voices becoming louder with every step he took, until he was standing right in front of the cartoon corpse. It was as though they were beckoning him.

Suddenly, he snapped out of whatever trance had taken a hold of him. He took a step back. Then another. Finally, he turned around and practically ran out of the room. Instead of going back the way he came, he kept going straight ahead, taking a left and entering a new room.

A wave of cool, fresh air hit him. His entire body was shaking and he had to support himself on the wall so he wouldn’t fall over. His chest was heaving while he was trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as he could. Sweat was running down his face and dampening his clothes. The fresh breeze made him shiver.

What in the world was that???

Either Joey killed someone and dressed them up as a cartoon character or he managed to make a scarily convincing puppet. And what was with that room? And the voices? Where had the voices come from? A tape? Or were the fumes finally getting to his head? That was probably it. He had no idea how long it took for somebody to start hallucinating from ink fumes but it felt awfully early to be losing his mind.

Several more minutes went by until he finally managed to calm his breathing and heartbeat. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, bringing it back in order. 

Luckily there were vents in this room. They were rather loud too. Pushing himself off the wall and looking up, he took in his surroundings for the first time since coming in here. It was a big room. On his left and right were patches of earth with a path of wooden boards in the middle leading up to a big wall filled with machinery and another ink stain. Right in the middle, framed by two big pipes, was a big lever marked with a lightning bolt. Above it hung a sign labeled “Ink Machine - Main Power”. On the sides were what appeared to be pedestals, three each, with framed pictures behind them. Black on white they depicted a heart with horns, a halo and big stitches running across, two music notes and an inkwell to his left. To his right were a book, wrench and gear. The ceiling wasn’t flat like in the rest of the studio. It was much higher and pointed, lined with several big vents. Surprisingly enough there wasn’t a camera. Looking back showed it to be in the hallway past the entrance. 

Curiously, Henry stepped closer to the lever, now hearing the loud buzzing coming from the unmoving machinery. It was as long as his torso and pointing upwards. There was a smaller black sign next to it, saying “Low Pressure” in glowing white letters. He tried to pull it down but to no avail. Even putting his entire weight on it did nothing.

Alright, how could he get this to work? He took another look around the room. What was the purpose of these pedestals? Going to the next one on his left, the one marked with an inkwell, he could now see a small pipe embedded into the ground leading into the wall. A closer look at the others revealed similar pipes on all of them. Maybe the objects on the pictures were supposed to go there? That felt right and wrong at the same time. It would make sense considering the layout of the room. On the other hand it felt more like some cultish ritual than turning on a machine that produced ink. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was actually standing in some sort of ritual room. The dead cartoon and whispers from earlier didn’t exactly disprove that line of thought. 

Well, never mind that. He still had a few rooms to explore and find a way out. Maybe he would find some answers along the way but hopefully there wouldn’t be any more of… whatever this was.

Shaking his head, he went to leave. He turned the corner, almost bumping into a small dark figure. 

His arm shot up, stopping his knife inches away from the cutout suddenly standing in front of him. The rest of the hallway was completely empty. 

He took a step back. Who put this here?! 

He looked past the cutout. Boris’s body was still lying on the dissection table. Guess he wasn’t hallucinating that part.

He looked behind himself, just in case. No one was there.

“Joey?” he called out.

No answer. He could hear footsteps and shuffling, but they didn’t seem to move closer. Once again he couldn’t figure out which direction they were coming from.

He adjusted the grip on his knife. Even more alert now than before, he kept stopping every few steps, listening. The footsteps continued but still without noticeable source. 

He made his way back to the intersection and went down the hallway he had ignored earlier. Rounding the corner he found two more doors, two “Devil Darlin’” posters, a chair and a small table with a recording tape. Oh he remembered those. Joey had spent way too much money on way too many of them just so they could record important moments of their day. Like an audio diary. In which case Joey was the overbearing parent snooping into their kids' privacy, except in this case it was to steal possible episode ideas instead of “checking up on them”. This one was signed “Wally Franks”. 

A painful pang of regret and grief made Henry grip the tape tighter.

Wally had been their janitor and one of their first employees. He had started out as a bit of a lazy butt, but after a while he learned and became more accepting and polite. Most of that came from spending a lot of time around Henry and Sammy. The entire studio had feared April 1st because of the duo plus Sammy. Oh, he had lost count of the amount of times the two of them had lectured Wally about his lies and tendency to pull destructive pranks. In the end, he had actually become a permanent addition to their little friend circle. He had unexpectedly cut off all contact with Henry after he left the studio and had gone missing without a trace not even two years later.

Henry hesitated for a moment, but decided to hit play and the loud voice of the boisterous janitor filled the hall, his New Yorker accent strong as ever.

_ At this point, I don’t get what Joey’s plan is for this company. The animations sure aren’t being finished on time anymore. And I certainly don’t see why we need this machine. It’s noisy, it’s messy and who needs that much ink anyway? _

_ Also, get this, Joey had each one of us donate something from our work station. We put them on these little pedestals in the break room. To help appease the gods, Joey says. Keep things going. _

_ I think he’s lost his mind, but hey, he writes the checks. _

_ But I tell you what, if one more of these pipes bursts, I’m outta here. _

Henry stared at the tape in disbelief.

Oh, Joey had gone insane alright. Lost all the cups in his cupboard apparently. Maybe even broke them himself. Jesus Christ. And here he had hoped this was all some elaborate prank made just for him. But the tape made it very clear that this had been going on since before Wally went missing. Guess he really did have to find those relics in order to activate the machine. 

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Before he continued down the rest of the hallway, he checked the two doors. One was locked and the other led to a closet filled with even more bacon soup. Just how much of that stuff did they have in here? 

Turning around, he followed the path, which took another right turn. The pipes on the walls seemed to be going the same way. Oddly enough, the shuffling from earlier stopped. Instead he now heard the whistling of wind going through the halls, making the old wood creak and groan. 

While walking, he found another camera, a locked door and a closet filled with projectors and reels. The path turned right again, bringing Henry into what was most likely the theater room. He raised his brow at the pipe right next to the entrance. Other than that, the room was filled with two rows of chairs, all of them facing the right wall with a big screen and opened curtains. A projector stood in the second row, right next to a shelf full of what he could only assume was more bacon soup. Next to it was a camera. From his current standpoint, he could see a little alcove behind the projector, but the corner was blocking his view.

Stepping down a small step, he went inside and around the corner. The wall in front of him was filled with more machinery and another pipe. In the middle of it were a display showing the ink pressure and a valve. Just like the little sign in the old break room had said, the hand showed low pressure. However, any attempts at turning the valve lead to nothing.

He sighed again. He had now looked into almost all of the hallways in here but found nothing that could help him get out. He doubted that he would find anything in the others. 

He turned back to leave the room but stopped when he noticed the sole viewer of the empty screen. A little Bendy doll. Guess he had found one of those “office relics”. At least the stitches of the heart made him assume it stood for the toy department. Picking it up, he intended to continue his way but-

‘SQUEAK’

The doll went flying, resulting in another squeak as it hit the wall. Henry groaned and smacked his forehead. Did he really just scare himself with a doll of all things? 

Now that that scare was out of the way, he made his way back to the old break room. Not before making another detour though. Even though the cultish part of it all made him a little uneasy, he couldn’t stop his curiosity from taking over. 

One of the pictures had depicted a wrench, which was most likely the one stuck in the poor wolf’s chest. At least he hadn’t seen any others so far. 

When he arrived at the junction, he saw that the cutout was gone. Seems like whoever put it there decided they wanted it back. Turning left, he faced the horror room.

Before he entered this time, though, he put his knife back on his belt so he would have a free hand while holding the doll. He COULD put it on its pedestal first, but, just in case he hadn’t hallucinated the voices, he wanted to have something loud to snap himself out of that odd trance. 

The voices were indeed still there and they were still beckoning him. Again, they became louder the closer he got, but now that he was mentally prepared, he managed to get in, get the wrench and get out without much of a problem. Only when he left, did he notice he had been holding the doll close to his chest and was shaking slightly. Letting out a sigh of relief, he headed to his original destination.

Back in the break room, Henry put the little plush demon on its pedestal, which sunk into the ground. With a loud ‘clack’ a light in the ceiling came on, illuminating the doll like a spotlight. The same thing happened when he put the wrench down. Seems like this whole thing wasn’t just superstition, there was actually a mechanism behind it. A mechanism built because of a superstition. 

Time to get the other things. There had been a gear in the chest by the ink machine and another picture with matching notes in the music room. It stood for the record, most likely. The inkwell was probably in the art department. Where would he find a book though? 

With his goal set, he went to get the other relics. Still cautious though, he continued listening from time to time and made sure to look down both ways every time he passed one of the junctions. The shuffling and footsteps continued, but whoever was making them seemed to stay in the area behind the shutter or would occasionally go to the ink machine room and work with the tools there. They also still avoided Henry. He wasn’t sure if he prefered it that way or not. 

On one hand not knowing who was here with him or where they were was bad. On the other, the cutout scare from earlier left him to assume they didn’t have any good intentions towards him. In the end he decided to avoid them as well and concentrate on finding the relics. 

Getting the gear was easy enough. It was lighter than expected but still rather bulky so he decided to take it to the break room before getting the record. 

This time he actually stepped into the music room. He also put out the candle. Open fire in an old wooden building filled with ink could only end badly. Now that he was standing in front of the desk and not in the door frame, he noticed that there was something written on the paper. 

“HE WILL SET US FREE”. It looked finger painted. 

Well.  _ That _ didn’t make this all any less creepy. 

After taking the record out from under the desk, he glanced at the radio. Should he? He caved after a few more seconds and turned it on, almost jumping again from how loud it was. The noise drowned out everything else that could be heard from outside. It was different from the one he had heard before, but it was still a catchy and fast paced tune. No matter how he turned the dials, he could neither lower the volume nor turn it off. In the end he gave up and quickly left the room.

Once he had deposited the record, he went to take a look at what he assumed was the new break room. When he passed the junction, the radio was no longer playing. 

The room now before him looked a lot like the break room he remembered, except for the long flight of stairs. It was a floor below the one he was currently on, but the ceiling didn’t adjust, so it was incredibly high and open. There was a big pillar in the middle, connected to the walls with two long wooden bars. Said pillar and bars were obstructing the view into the room so he couldn’t see much from the top of the stairs, other than curtains, another cutout, a coat hanger and several more episode posters. He could also spot another ink pipe with a camera below it at the end of the room. After descending the stairs (which luckily had a handrail) two tables, many chairs, a punch clock and another hallway with a camera at the end of it became visible. One of the tables was filled with books. Checkpot. But did he need a specific one or would any suffice? Walking over to take a closer look at the covers, he noticed a game of darts and another door next to the stairs. Probably just more bacon soup. 

The books were all about different topics. Two especially struck his interest. Both were written by Joey, so he probably needed one of those. “The Illusion Of Living” was about animation tips and tricks, although something about the art seemed… off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The other one had Bendy on the cover and told the history of the studio, discussed entrepreneurship, how to make it big in business and so on. 

Joey called Bendy  _ his _ character on the first page. Henry slammed the book shut and took the other one. 

The other hallway led nowhere. It turned a corner and was then blocked off by several wooden boards. He could spot a “Danger Keep Out” sign behind them. Before he left, he went past the punch clock. There was a poster next to it saying “Don’t Forget To Punch In! It Could SAVE Your Job”. 

Wow. Amused, Henry punched the clock mumbling “better get overtime for this”.

He wasn’t entirely sure if this book would work, but thankfully the pillar once again sunk into the floor and a spotlight started shining from above. Only the inkwell was missing now.

Before he could leave this time, he noticed that the earthy part of the ground looked odd. Henry blinked and took a closer look. Just like the wood, the lines on the ground looked as though they had been sketched. It even had the same weird papery feel to it.

… 

Henry shook off the weird feeling creeping in and left.

This time, he had to backtrack a lot further. The door the sign pointed at had been locked, but there was also a hallway opposite to it. Two dimensional arrows could only point so many ways. 

Since he passed the front door, he checked to see if it was still locked. To his dismay, it was. A look at his watch told him it was 6pm. Normally he would have tucked the girls into bed and sat down with Linda and Lacie on the couch by now. Hopefully he would get out of here soon. Did they even know where he was? 

He shook his head. He would be home soon.

He turned towards the last hallway he had yet to explore. It was a short one, splitting into two after just a few feet. As he got closer, a draft of fresh air hit him. He also heard somebody shuffling paper in the room to his right. He froze. Then quietly moved towards the sound. Before he could see into that one though, he saw something he hadn’t expected to see. 

His old desk, tucked away in a little alcove on the left. He had wasted so much time in that chair. There were still a few concept drawings stuck to its surface. Another cutout was standing next to it and there were more tears in the wall that were not only patched up with boards but also paper. Normal paper sheets. Just glued to the wall. Also another camera.

Ignoring the pie-cut stare, he entered the other room. It was the art department, just as he had assumed, although he could only see one desk, two posters and a cutout because of a corner blocking his view. There were two pipes above him. The shuffling was more quiet now. 

A few more steps and the entirety of the room was visible. It was empty. The shuffling had stopped. Instead he heard a loud ticking, which turned out to be coming from a box, presumably filled with machinery, embedded into the wall. There were also vents, which made the air in here notably fresher. 

It was a bit bigger than he remembered, and more decorated. The ceiling was lined with intricate woodwork patterns and two more ink pipes. Those things were practically everywhere. Just like the cameras. Speaking of which, there was another one in the corner across from him. It was right above a “Work Hard Work Happy” poster displaying the typical Bendy grin and a singled out desk with no chair. It looked very different from the other ones in the room and was practically sitting in a spotlight. The only light in the room was above it, while the other desks were sitting in almost complete darkness, with only their own lights making them visible. Henry himself was currently standing a few ways away from them on a little elevated platform that was separated from the rest of the room with a railing. On it, was a big box and another coat hanger. He could also see some empty shelves and a big poster promoting the bacon soup. 

It looked like they knocked down out a wall or two after he left. Guess it took a few people to replace him. He smirked proudly at that. 

Stepping down, he went over to the special desk. The ground around it wasn’t wood, but earth. It had a little drawing of Bendy on it. The little guy was standing on one leg, a wide grin on his face, stretching out his arms as far as he could and waving at any who looked at him. 

A wave of curiosity washed over Henry. He stared at the drawing for a moment, confused. Why would he be curious about a picture of a cartoon he had drawn so often?

He shook his head. Below the drawing was another board and on it stood an inkwell. He crouched down to get it. 

That was all of them.

As he got up, he took another look at the drawing. His eyes widened. He almost dropped the inkwell. Then he turned around and booked it as fast as he could. 

That was impossible.

He was hallucinating. 

He had to be.

The drawing had changed.

Bendy had no longer been standing up. He had been lying on his stomach, head in his hands, curiously looking at Henry.

He hadn’t just been looking at the fourth wall.

He had been looking  _ directly at Henry _ .

Henry only slowed down when another loud ‘clang’ shook him from his panic. 

Focus. Focus, focus, focus! Losing his head in a situation like this would only lead to him getting hurt or worse.

He rubbed his temples. A headache was starting to form and he was getting dizzy. He really needed some fresh air.

Once back in the break room, he put down the inkwell and leaned onto the pedestal, staring into nothing.

The front door was locked. There weren’t any other ways out. He had nothing to pick the lock. In his current condition, he would never be able to break off the door knob. Even if he used something more practical than the projector. He could either sit here and wait for a miracle to happen or turn on that machine and see if that did anything helpful. 

He sighed and rubbed his temples again.

A curious question formed in his head. Why was he here? 

Wait. Curious? He was frustrated and exhausted, not curious.

He felt a presence in the room with him.

He snapped around. No one was there. He was alone.

He pinched his nose and groaned. He was going insane.

Standing back up, he turned around and headed back to the theater room. The only thing left to do was turning up the pressure and getting the ink to flow. Then he could start up the main power.

Before he could even reach the last corner, a cutout suddenly peeked around it, nearly making him jump. Then it disappeared again. This time somebody had to be there.

Nobody was there.

Only the cutout and two big ink stains. One next to the cardboard demon, one beneath the pipe.

He entered the room and took two steps.

‘CLACK’

Henry jumped. The projector had turned on. It was now throwing a little clip of Bendy dancing onto the wall. 

Somebody started to whistle. It was the theme song of the show. It was coming from behind the projector.

He lunged forward, ready to fight. 

The alcove was empty. There was a new ink stain in the corner. The whistling continued.

He just stood there, trying to process what was happening. Then he groaned and rubbed his temples again.

He had to get out of here.

Stepping towards the machinery, he grabbed the valve and turned it, bringing it to life. A loud hiss echoed through the room and gears started moving. 

A sudden crashing noise followed by loud splashing made him flinch.

The pipe in front of the door had burst and was now flooding the room. The ink reached his calve within seconds.

It was freezing. 

Even though he tried to get out of the room without getting drenched completely, it proved to be a pointless endeavor. The pipe and ink stream were blocking the way out, so he only managed to avoid getting ink in his face. The rest of his body, however, got covered in the black liquid. No way was he ever going to get these clothes clean again. Not to mention his prosthetic. He would probably have to take apart the entire thing.

As he was walking through the hallways, shivering from the ink shower, loud banging coming from inside the pipes caught his attention. 

‘Thunk’ ‘Bang’ ‘Thump’

Whatever was in there, it was solid.

Maybe they were just clogged up. And the ink had dislodged whatever it was and was now pushing it through the pipes. Yeah. That had to be it. They had spent 30 years without maintenance after all.

The machinery in the break room was finally moving too, releasing pressure with loud hisses, the metal rhythmically clicking and thumping. The little glowing sign now displayed the word “Ready”. He pulled the lever, which worked this time with a loud clack.

The lights went out. A new one, right above the lever came on, putting it in a spotlight. He could hear the ink machine in the next room start up.

Too late to turn back now.

The lights in the hallways were dimmed as well. Exiting the area behind the shutter, he found the door to the new break room closed. In front of it were a big ink stain and black, barefoot footprints coming from the suddenly boarded up ink machine room. The work was sloppy and the boards were askew, so he could still see the moving machine behind it. Ink was flowing out of its nozzle.

His gut told him to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly inched closer, trying to get a better look.

A black shadow jumped at him, roughly shoving him to the ground. Then it was gone.

Finally, Henry ran.

The workshop started falling apart around him. Ink filled the hallways, hindering the prosthetic, slowing him down, nearly making him trip over his own feet. The shutters fell shut, pipes burst, blowing hot steam into his face, even the ceiling started to come down. The rubble was blocking off all paths except the one leading to the exit.

It was open. Just a bit, but enough for a light to shine through.

He sped up.

Almost there. He was  _ almost there _ . 

‘CRACK’

Henry’s scream echoed through the broken workshop as the floor gave out under him. 

He was falling

falling

falling

With a loud splash, he landed in a pool of ink. His back and head hit solid ground, but the thick liquid cushioned his fall. Its poisonous taste filled his mouth, burned in his nose, blinded his eyes. He fought his way back to the surface, the weight of his clothes pulling him back down. When he finally broke through he was coughing, spitting out ink and gasping for air, but when he tried to stand, he just fell over again. The fall had partially dislodged his leg from the prosthetic and it took several more tries for him to finally get his footing. Rubbing at his eyes, blinking furiously, he managed to get his vision back.

He was standing chest deep in ink and there was more flowing down from above. There was a pipe with a valve across the room. Maybe he could use that to drain the room? He tried to go towards it, but the ink, tilted prosthetic and heavy clothes slowed him down considerably. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached and turned it.

The loud creak only worsened his headache, but the following sound of bubbling as the ink started to recede at least proved his hope right. It took only a few seconds until the room was dry, save for a few puddles. 

He slid down the wall until he was sitting on his knees. A shiver ran down his spine.

Exhausted and freezing, he sat there for several more minutes trying to process what had just transpired. He could still taste the ink in his mouth.

Who was that?? It had all happened much too fast. The only things he had been able of making out were a black inky body, a round head, two horns and a white cartoony grimace. It had looked kind of like Bendy.

Raising his eyes, he took his first real look at the room he was in. A gaping hole was in the ceiling, with still more ink splattering down. To his left was a pile of drawers and chairs blocking a door. An empty shelf and a camera were in the corner next to it. Across the room was another door, this one wide open.

At least he was alone for now. Whatever had attacked him would have to jump down a long way down to get him and this place had been flooded before, so he doubted that anybody would be here.

He checked his prosthetic. It was indeed a bit loose but neither gentle nor hard pushes got it back into the right position. He tried to get up but a sudden wave of pain shooting through his back forced him to sit down again. Carefully, he ran his hand across the hurt area. Luckily, it seemed nothing was broken or cracked. It would leave a nasty bruise though.

He glared at the camera. He hated that someone he didn’t know was so very aware of his every move. More importantly someone whose intentions he didn’t know. 

His next attempt at standing up was slower and much more careful. Still, he had to lean onto the wall for a few more minutes before he could keep moving. Trudging over to the pile while using the wall as support, he managed to pull out a chair to sit on, then pulled down his pants to take a proper look at the prosthetic. It had a shuttle-lock, which meant that the liner he was wearing over the rest of his leg had a pin at the end that could be pushed and locked into the socket. The fall had managed to push it into the wrong position, tilting the leg and effectively jamming the lock. Wonderful. He pressed the small button near the knee, opening the lock and pushed his stump into the socket as hard as he could. It took a few tries but he finally managed to jerk it back into the right position, hearing the soft clicks of the pin locking correctly into place.

With a sigh, he leaned back carefully. His back was still aching. After a few more seconds, he slowly got to his feet and pulled up his pants. He gave the camera another look then carefully tried out his artificial leg. It wasn’t sitting correctly yet but at least it was moving alright. 

It didn’t take too long to properly adjust the prosthetic and once he was done, he curiously went over to the hole in the ceiling. Somehow managing to avoid getting more ink into his eyes, he looked up, seeing nothing but darkness.

Just how many stories had he fallen down? It was a miracle he hadn’t seriously injured himself.

Stepping out of the inkfall, he noticed that the shelf to his left wasn’t entirely empty. Another tape recorder was lying on it. This one was labeled “Thomas Connor”. Who was that?

Pressing play, a deep rough voice rang through the room.

_ It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s stuck in behind every single wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clear up to my knees! Whoever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure I don’t, or he’s some kind of idiot. _

_ But the real worst part about all this… are the noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on its last legs. Make no mistake, this place… this… machine… heck, this whole darn thing… it just isn’t natural. _

_ You can bet, I won’t be doing any more repair jobs for Mister Joey Drew. _

Unnatural, huh? That was a good way to describe it. 

Wait. Thomas Connor. T.C.

He must have been the one in charge of the ink machine. What did he mean by “this whole darn thing”? He had mentioned the machine on its own before so whatever this “thing” was, was a lot bigger. Did it have anything to do with the dead Boris and that Bendy-lookalike? Now that he thought about it, the way everything upstairs had been laid out to make him activate the machine was incredibly suspicious. Wally’s tape about the relics he had to collect was placed way too conveniently. There was definitely something bigger going on here.

So many questions and so little answers.

Nevertheless, there was nothing else worthy of interest in this room, so his only choice was to continue through the open door. Said door led him to a stairwell leading further down, around another corner. Above it hung a sign saying “Danger Keep Out”.

Not like he had a choice.

Pressing forward, he found himself surrounded by broken vents. There was also constantly ink dripping down the walls, which really didn’t help his headache. Strangely, the ink didn’t leave any marks on the walls. After being completely submerged in it, they should be more or less black. They didn’t seem to care though and continued being sepia toned. At least that meant that they were mostly dry and less slippery, so they weren’t too horrible for support. As wonderful as the prosthetic was, the knee piece didn’t offer enough support to walk down stairs, so he had to keep the leg straight and take each step one at a time. This also meant he needed at least some sort of support and these stairs didn’t even have a handrail. 

Were those too expensive too,  _ Joey _ ?

Behind the corner was another flight of stairs, leading into another ink pool with another pipe, valve and camera. The once again chest high ink splashed softly as he stepped into it. Admittedly, he wasn’t THAT tall, just a few inches below average, but that was still a very large amount of ink. He just hoped that it wouldn’t affect the prosthetic too much. It could handle a little rain but it wasn’t meant to be fully submerged in liquid.

Turning the valve drained the ink once more and a new set of stairs became visible, the walls now covered in stone tiles. This one was marked with a “Watch Your Step” sign. 

At the end of the stairwell was a little niche filled with several burnt candles and a few music sheets. The paper was as clean as the walls. There were several rows of notes and a title written on it.

“The lighter side of Hell”

That summed up his situation fairly well. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up on the darker side soon.

The still way too high ink at the bottom of the last set of stairs (at least this one had an actual railing, oh thank god) was traversed as slow as the others and this time he had to walk a lot further to reach the valve. But once he had, the ink was drained and revealed a door. 

Behind it was a new room, filled with the rhythmic thumping and hissing of machinery. Another corner blocked his view so he could only see another dripping pipe on the ceiling and a new camera behind it. Although once he turned the corner, he kind of wished he hadn’t. 

The next hallway was boarded up and “THE CREATOR LIED TO US” was written on the wall.

By now, he was too done with the world to really care, but still wondered who the creator was. Joey probably. The man had told nothing but lies.

There was also a working table with a toolbox and, most importantly, a fire axe. That would definitely come in handy. It was a little big and the hilt was askew but it was functional enough. The boards blocking his path didn’t stand a chance. Same for a few more boards within the hallway and several that were boarding up another door after a new corner with a new camera. 

This time, Henry fully regretted opening the door. Even his exhaustion didn’t stop the horror creeping through his veins as he realized what was standing before him.

Three coffins and a ritual circle surrounded by a ring of lit candles.

Before he could really finish any thought in his head, the building started to shake. There was a loud crash behind him and when he turned, he saw that the ceiling had caved in, completely burying the path he had come from. By now, panic started to seep through. He had to find a place to hide. Something to protect him from the falling debris, keep him from being buried alive. Without looking where he was going, he stumbled into the room, almost tripping over his own feet.

He stepped right into the ritual circle.

Hot white flashes of pain shot through his head. Images flashed before his eyes.

The ink machine. The six symbols. The creature. Tall, thin and noodly, its stance tilted, left leg painfully bent backwards. A big frown made from blocky teeth, a molten face and body, horns and a crooked bowtie. One white gloved claw reaching out.

His legs gave out under him and everything turned to black.


	4. Dreams And Nightmares

Darkness

Nothing but darkness

Voices, soft whispering, everywhere and nowhere

He didn’t understand what they were saying.

They were pulling him closer, beckoning. 

Something wasn’t right. Where was he?

Another presence. It was as unfamiliar as the rest, but instead of just pulling, it came closer on its own, reaching out to him.

It was longing. Longing for something. Peace? No. Freedom? Freedom from what?

Still, Henry tried to pull away. Whatever was happening, he didn’t like it. 

The voices grew louder. Still beckoning. Still promising sweet nothings he couldn’t understand.

They were all around him. Clinging to him. Weighing on him. Pulling him towards the other presence. 

He struggled, tried to somehow get away.

Getting louder and louder, the voices became more distinct and started splitting up. Some loud, filled with joy, others quiet and calm. Some kind, others filled with malice. All of them promising what had been taken from him so, so long ago. Old dreams, put away and covered in dust, but never forgotten.

All he had to do was let go.

A thick fog started to fill his mind. Every clear thought that attempted to cut through hurt, the pain getting worse and worse each time.

Like it was tearing him apart.

_Come on old pal, it will be so much easier for the both of us if you just let go._

This voice was friendly. Smooth. Familiar.

Joey?

_Dreams come true here, I thought you knew that._

I put those dreams away for a reason. 

_Did you really? Don’t you remember it? Don’t you miss it? All that happiness, all that joy, all that passion? You had never given up before, why did you suddenly give up all of that? Maybe if you had just pushed just a little harder, if you had just stayed a little longer, you could have had it all. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to have it back? Don’t you want to dream again?_

His struggle slowed.

He did. He missed it. He missed it all _so much._

The other presence came closer. Still reaching out. Still longing.

Should he really? Should he really give up everything he had?

_Is what you have now truly what you wanted in life?_

Was it? He didn’t know.

What was it that he had? He couldn’t remember. 

He couldn’t remember anything right now.

The presence had almost reached him. It wanted him. It wanted him to take it and give it the freedom it longed for. It did not reach out to help him. Only for what he could give it.

He did not want to take it. He did not want to be used. He wanted to hold on. But everything was so heavy, pulling him down. 

Down, down, down, into the abyss.

Suddenly, the darkness opened up. A warm, golden light started to filter through, reflecting off the dark, viscous liquid surrounding him like a tunnel.

With the light came another presence, another voice. 

No, it wasn’t one voice, but several, speaking in unison. They felt familiar somehow, but at the same time they didn’t. 

They reached for him as well. They worried. Worried for _him._

That feeling cut through his haze like a sharp knife. 

It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_. But it kept him from d r o w n i n g.

The mass of disjointed voices came back, loud, booming this time, wrapping themselves around his very being, trying to drag him down into an endless abyss.

This time, he would not yield. This time, he kept fighting, holding onto the new presence. And they held onto him.

Worry. Longing. Hope. Not his, but theirs. He felt them all the same.

Higher and higher and higher, reaching for the light, leaving behind the darkness.

The closer they got, the more the new voices seemed to fuse, blending into each other, forming something new.

Together, they broke free, pushing away the voices and hauling themselves out of the abyss.

The darkness still clung to them.

Slowly, Henry awoke. 

His head hurt. A lot. The sharp smell of ink and burned wax didn’t help. Neither did the loud ringing in his ears.

Where was he?

Groaning he opened his eyes, the world around him nothing but blurry sepia and a small black figure next to him.

Slowly, his memories came back. He had passed out in that weird room with the coffins.

The other person had stopped shaking him. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. Then he looked up, staring right into the worried pie cut eyes of Bendy The Dancing Demon.


	5. Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little message to everybody: Thank you for reading this story, it makes me really happy to know people enjoy this little project of mine.

Pain.

Nothing but pain.

Like they were being torn apart and forced into a place they did not belong.

Then… nothing. Just existing. No emotions, no thoughts, no _being_. Just existing in an endless, timeless void.

There were, however, two pulls, both equally strong.

One liberating, flowing, natural

One constricting, hungry, unnatural

It was impossible to follow either.

Sometimes, between the endless nothingness, there were moments of… awareness?

Hearing, seeing, feeling. Sometimes people, sometimes empty. Sometimes light, sometimes dark. Wooden hallways, rooms, desks, paper. 

Then it was gone. When it was almost forgotten, it happened again. 

With each moment, they felt more. There wasn’t enough to properly place anything, just good, bad, good, good, bad, _familiar_. Each moment different from the last, but always familiar. People, places, objects. They knew them, somehow, but there wasn’t enough to remember. 

They? He? She? It? Who- what were they? They didn’t know. There wasn’t enough to think.

There wasn’t enough to _be_.

Still, they liked those moments, _longed_ for them. They tried to drag them out, tried to cling to them, cling to _something_ , something to keep them there. First whatever brought them there in the first place, then other objects and, after that didn’t work, people.

The first time they held onto a person, through all of the _nothing_ from before, broke a wave of raw, unfiltered emotions. Emotions that weren’t theirs, emotions they had never felt before, emotions they couldn’t _comprehend_.

It was too much, too much, _too much_. 

They had to let go.

Nevertheless, they wouldn’t give up. They tried again and again and again. Slowly, they got used to them, recognized them even. Fear, sadness, hope, joy. But, no matter how much they learned, no matter how long they stayed, no matter how much they _felt_ , they could never hold on. They were always pulled back into the void.

After a while, the people stopped appearing. Moving, living ink and odd black and white beings took their place. The hallways withered and decayed. Sometimes, they changed right before them. Walls moving, tiles turning to wood or wood to tiles, objects appearing or disappearing. There was no more talking, no more laughter. Just creaking boards, miserable groaning or even pained screams.

Then moment, after moment, after moment. Something new.

A man. Short, red locks, some grey, small but pretty broad, familiar and unfamiliar at once. He was looking around, searching for something. 

Who was he? Why was he here?

He crouched down, grabbed something, stood back up. Green eyes, light skin, covered in freckles. His face turned pale, eyes going wide and he bolted out of the room.

They reached out and, just before he got too far away, managed to hold on.

Fear. Frustration. Anger. Longing. 

They were pushed away.

No

nononononono 

Not back into the void. Not again, not again, not again.

They wanted to be, they wanted to be, they wanted to _be_.

Where was he? Where was he? _Where was he?_

After what felt like an eternity, they sensed him. Far, far away, _inside_ the constricting pull. 

And he was _s i n k i n g_.

Oh no, oh no, _oh no_

For the first time since their creation, they found the strength to move. Disregarding the liberating pull, they instead followed the other.

Darker, yet darker. An endless sea of black. 

Voices, whispering softly, clinging to them, clinging to _him_ too, pulling them both down.

Down, down, down, _into the abyss_.

No. **No** . **NO** . They had to help, they had to help, they had to _help_. But how?

They did the only thing they knew how to do. They reached out. Warm, golden light started to filter through, reflecting off the dark, viscous liquid surrounding the two of them like a tunnel. He held on.

Fear. Hope. _Warmth_.

Without warning, the voices boomed. Screaming, buzzing, distorting. They clawed into them, tearing at them, trying to chain them to wherever they were coming from.

It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_.

But they fought, holding onto each other.

Higher and higher and higher, reaching for the light, leaving the darkness.

The closer they got, the less they were they, the more they became _he_. And, just as the both of them reached it, one last, solid thought.

_Bendy_

Together, they broke through the surface, pushing away the voices and hauling themselves out of the abyss.

The darkness still clung to them.

He blinked. Everything was dark and blurry. He was lying on his side. The sharp smell of ink and burned wax filled the air. Something was dripping into his eyes. 

He blinked some more, trying to clear his vision. It worked somewhat, but the dripping didn’t stop and just undid everything. Clumsily, he attempted to sit up, but his limbs wouldn’t respond correctly. Like moving was new to them.

Was it? He tried to think of the last time he moved. Nothing came to mind.

Huh.

Rolling onto his stomach, he put both hands under his body, his right arm hitting something warm and soft next to him. Ignoring that in favor of sitting, he pushed himself up and backwards, until he was kind of stretched out but his butt was lying on his legs. His tail was twitching in concentration. What now? Wait. He moved his weight back onto his hands, this time pulling his legs forward. Once they were under him, he sat down on them. Ha! Now he could finally wipe at his eyes to get the weird drippy stuff out. 

Once his vision was cleared, he could finally see the room he was in. The light was dim, but it was enough to see the three large coffins in front of him.

Coffins? Who was in there? Probably not the most important question right now, but still. “Where was he?” or “How did he get here?” Were probably a better ones.

Problem was, he didn’t have any satisfying answers to those. He remembered pain, darkness, voices and another presence. There were also some other things, but everything was blurry. Some people, some outlines or colours but no faces. Some places, but no context. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be in an animation studio though. But what animation studio had coffins? Hopefully, some more information about the present would help him figure out the past.

With that in mind, he started looking around a bit more. The room wasn’t very big, and rather empty. There were three chairs scattered about, two to his right and one to his left right in front of an empty shelf. There was one speck of not-brown-or-black-colour in the room, which was a tiny red light on a camera in the upper right corner. It seemed to be staring at him. Next to the coffins was a boarded up door and a second one behind him. The latter lead into a hallway with a caved in ceiling. 

Oh dear, let’s hope this room holds.

The yellowing wallpaper, age-warped wood and various black ink stains around the room really didn’t help ease that worry.  Also very concerning were the ring of mostly burnt out candles and drawn circle filled with all sorts of odd symbols he was sitting in. Not to mention the unconscious person next to him. They were at least twice his height and covering up most of the drawings. There was also an axe next to their legs.

Who was that? 

They felt familiar, which was odd considering how little of them was visible. They were completely covered in ink so it was impossible to tell whether the short hair, turtleneck sweater or even the long tail with a fountain pen tip were actually black or just dyed by the stuff. Their face was somewhat clean but still covered in black smudges. Through them, light skin and a few freckles were visible. The seemed oddly pale which was even more worrying. What colour they were supposed to have, he had no idea. Just that they were worryingly pale.

Was there anything in here that wasn’t worrying? Maybe that they knew what was going on. 

Nevertheless, before he tried to somehow wake them up, he grabbed the axe and carefully shoved it behind him and out of their reach. Better safe than sorry, he had no idea who they were after all.

Now that that was out of the way, he stared at them for a few more moments. Then he hesitantly reached out and patted their cheek.

No reaction.

Doing this a second time was still unsuccessful. Time for more drastic measures then. He rolled up imaginary sleeves, grabbed their shoulders and started to gently shake them. After a few seconds, they started to groan, green eyes fluttering open. Finally!

His joy abruptly faded, however, when they looked up at him. Their gold rimmed eyes went wide and, somehow, their face turned even more pale.

Oh that was not good.


	6. Friend Or Foe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many questions, but so few answers...

He had to be dreaming right now because there was no way this was happening. Or maybe whatever had knocked him out in the first place had hit him a little too hard and rearranged some wires in his head.

Slowly, Henry sat up to get a better look at the small demon sitting in front of him. His round head with a white, heart shaped face and nervously blinking pie cut eyes was levitating over a black body with a white bowtie, no neck in sight. True to his rubberhose origins he had long, noodly arms and four-fingered hands, which were covered in white gloves with two black dots on their back. Although the yellowish lighting made them seem sepia toned, they were still much lighter than the yellowed cardboard cutouts. His legs were currently tucked under his body but it was still visible that they were much shorter than his arms. The very long tail ending in a fountain pen tip was twitching about more and more the longer Henry silently stared at him. It was like someone had taken him right out of a cartoon, not even bothering to make him three dimensional. The only thing out of place with that thought was the tail. Even though Henry had designed him with one, it hadn’t made it onto the screen thanks to Joey deeming it “too clicheé” for a demon character to have one. 

After a few more seconds he decided to pinch his arm. Bendy was still sitting there and having trouble figuring out where to look. He was definitely awake so maybe he was hallucinating.

“Smack me.”

The demon’ expression went from confusion and nervosity to absolute bewilderment.

“I need to know you’re real.”

Now even more confused than before, Bendy hesitantly raised his hand, only to very very softly pat Henry’s cheek. He then tilted his head and looked at him questioningly.

“Yeah, that… that works too.”

He had definitely felt that so he wasn’t hallucinating. But… how??? Before he could try to make sense of what was happening though, there was a loud ‘thump’ behind him and a sharp pain shot up his spine. Spinning around to try and find the danger, his headache decided to tell him not to move so quickly yet. Ouch. It really didn’t help that the pain hadn’t actually come from another person in the room or anything of that sort. No, it had come from a very long, ink black tail with a fountain pen tip identical to Bendy’s. But it was attached to himself instead and had also bumped against a chair apparently. He estimated it to be about as long as he was tall. Oddly enough, Bendy’s seemed to have a similar proportion. Slowly and carefully, Henry felt around the base of it. Yeah that was  _ definitely _ attached to him. And surprisingly fuzzy.

He looked back at Bendy, who was still sitting across from him in silence. It was only now that he noticed his axe lying a bit behind the little guy.

“Could you… uh, could you give me a moment?”

A nervous nod was his only answer. 

With a sigh, Henry buried his head in his hands. He was no longer certain that this whole thing wasn’t a weird dream. It couldn’t be real, right? He looked back at the coffins, then at the weird ritual circle both he and the toon were sitting in. Even though he had always believed that magic was real,  _ this _ kind of magic had never even crossed his mind. Just fey and folklore. But if that was real, then it was very much possible for this to be real as well. In the end it didn’t really matter anyways, because it was definitely happening. Sitting here in confusion wouldn’t get them out, dream or not. 

He scanned the rest of the room, noting that it hadn’t changed in any obvious ways since he passed out. The camera in the corner was concerning though. The path he had come from was still caved in and the other door was boarded up. His eyes landed on the toon again.

“How did you get in here?”

The little guy seemed surprised at the question, but opened his mouth to answer. Only problem with that was that nothing came out. He tried it again. Still silence. After a few more attempts, he decided to give up and just shrugged. That was… very odd. It made sense for him to be mute, Henry had  _ made _ him mute in the cartoons. But why did the demon himself seem like he didn’t know that?    


“You don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Do you remember anything?”

There was another moment of silence as the toon thought for a moment. After a bit he raised his hand and did an ‘eh’ motion with it.

“So you remember a little?”

Bendy shrugged and tried to say something again, but only silence was the result. It seemed to frustrate him since his tail started to swish around more abruptly. Then he shrugged again.

“Can you write?”

Another shrug.

That made things more difficult. “Do you know sign language?”

This time it took a lot longer for the toon to answer. He raised his hands for a moment, starting a movement but stopped, then tried something else with them. The attempts were clumsy but Henry could spot a few actual words.

“I” “voices” “blurry” “people”

After a while he gave up again and looked at him helplessly. He looked like a lost child. Henry’s expression softened.

“Hey, it’s ok, you were on the right track.”

That got the demon to perk up a little.

“I saw some words in there and combined with your previous answers I think I have an idea of what you’re trying to say. You, uh, remember bits and pieces, like people and voices, but not how you got here and… what you do remember is all blurry? Is that correct?”

Now the nod was filled with a bit more energy and relief.

“Ok, that’s something at least. But it also means neither of us have any idea of what’s currently going on.”

Bendy deflated at that. Then, with a look of determination, pointed at Henry, himself and then attempted another sign. It didn’t really work out but looked familiar.

“Are you trying to say that we’ll find out together?”

An enthusiastic nod was the answer.

“That’s not a bad idea.” However, Henry’s smile turned into a frown as he realized something. “Wait. Do you know  _ who _ you are?”

That froze the happy grin but this time he didn’t look lost. Instead he looked at his hands again, then around the room. Upon spotting a “Dancing Demon” Poster above one of the coffins he jumped to his feet only to fall right back down. Henry just barely managed to catch him.

“Woah there buddy, slow down a little.”

He held onto Bendy’s waist with both hands and motioned for him to put his own hands onto his shoulders. It took a bit for him to find his balance but once he had, he tried to take a few steps, but fell over almost immediately. Before Henry could catch him this time, he managed to hold onto the lying coffin and pulled himself to his feet. Then, grinning happily, he pointed at the words “starring Bendy”.

“So you’re Bendy?”, Henry asked, slightly amused.

A very enthusiastic nod was his answer. It stopped, however, as the toon realized something. He pointed at him and tilted his head curiously.

“What? Are you asking who I am?”

A nod.

“Uuuh” Was it really a good idea to give a demon his name? Admittedly, the little guy hadn’t shown any malicious intent towards him, only childlike trust, and Henry had never written him to be the bad guy but… how did he know that wasn’t just acting? The last time he had seen a being that resembled him, it had attacked him. On top of that, Bendy wasn’t even meant to be real in the first place. Who’s to say he can’t differ from the original script? Furthermore, all signs pointed to black magic of some sort being the cause of all this. And in magic, names were power. Then again, that’s what middle names were for, right? Plus, if Bendy had any connection to Joey, it really didn’t matter anyways.

“I’m Henry,” he started, while signing his name at the toon, who in turn tried to imitate the movement. This time he was successful on the second try. Henry nodded in approval and continued, “just like you, I really have no idea what’s happening or how I got here. The last time I was in this place was decades ago. All I remember is reading a letter and then,” he gestured at their surroundings “this place. I tried to figure out a puzzle on the upper floors to see if it would help me find a way out but everything started to break apart. While looking for a place to hide from the debris I found this room, stepped into the circle and passed out. And. Well, you know what happened next.” He shrugged. It was probably best to not mention the machine or that other Bendy-lookalike. For now at least.

Bendy nodded quietly, but said nothing else. After a few moments of silence, Henry tried to grab the nearest chair with his tail and pulled it towards him. Controlling his new limb was a bit more difficult than he expected but it worked out. Thanks to the prosthetic, standing up from the ground on his own was a bit difficult, so he used the chair for support. His body was also still aching from the fall, so he took it slowly “Well, I guess- Woah!” his vision suddenly turned to spots and he just barely managed to catch himself on the chair, his tail helping him find his balance. It took a few seconds for him to see and stand on his own again. Even though the tail had helped catch him, the new limb still threw off his usual balance notably. Looking up he caught the demon’s worried expression. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, just a little dizzy, that’s all. It’ll pass.” He gave him a reassuring smile. “Anyways. What I was trying to say was, we really only have one thing we can do. Press on, see if we can find a way out.”

He crouched down again to pick up his axe, going even slower this time. Once he stood steady again, he used it to cut up the boards blocking the door. It was more difficult than he liked to admit. He really needed some food or drink soon. His clothes were already dry, which meant he had been passed out for a pretty long while. How long exactly was a mystery for another day, because his watch was completely covered in dry ink. 

Once the boards were gone and the door opened with a loud creak, he turned around to see Bendy wobbling closer while holding onto the coffins. Henry reached out his hand to him. Nervously, Bendy looked at the hallway and the following set of stairs (that once again didn’t have a railing) leading further down into the studio, then back at Henry. He contemplated for another second, then stumbled forward a little, only to catch himself on Henry’s right leg. “Little guy” was right, he just barely reached the man’s hip. Finally, he took his hand, grinning up at him.

“As much as I appreciate the confidence, let’s maybe practice walking a bit more before you try to take on stairs.”


	7. Familiar Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new companion and a new area to explore. I wonder what they will find?

Before the two of them continued, they spent a few more minutes in the ritual room just walking around while Bendy held onto Henry’s hands to help him stay balanced. It didn’t take long for the little guy to figure it out but he made him walk two more rounds just in case. He really didn’t want to see him trip down the stairs. 

Facing the hallway again, they could already see the red light of a new camera blinking at them. Despite the plethora of boards above the stairs, presumably to support the very high ceiling, the hallway creaked and groaned loudly, which only reinforced their worry of having it come down. While holding the axe in his left and supporting himself on the right wall, he slowly made his way down. Bendy was a bit quicker than him since he could go down two steps at once, but he still kept close to the other wall, just in case. They had barely taken three steps when suddenly a board from the ceiling came loose with a loud snap. Bendy jumped and immediately hid behind Henry who eyed the ceiling in distrust. Why did that have to happen every time? After a few moments of nothing else breaking, they continued carefully into the new hallway labeled “Utility Shaft 9”. 

Upon reaching the patiently waiting devil at the foot of the stairs, the man grew even more worried, but not because of the bad shape of the studio this time. Another mural decorated the wall at the end of the hallway, right where the path took a right turn. This one spelled out “HE WILL SET US FREE” right beneath a pipe. It had a sticker of Bendy and another camera next to it. Stepping closer to the writing revealed a little shrine on a ledge and the ink stained floor beneath it, filled with lit candles, a banjo, three bacon soup cans and three bowls filled with said soup. Around the corner they could now see a fairly big room, with the path continuing in the same direction as the stairs but a little to the right. After a bit, another cutout and camera greeted them just as it took another right turn. The ritual circle drawn in thick lines onto the wall behind the cutout didn’t escape Henry’s eyes. In front of the wall right next to them a chair and fallen over trash can were being illuminated by more candles standing on a second ledge. And, as though the three coffins from earlier weren’t enough, there were two more in a big alcove on the wall opposite to them. Even down here there were still giant tears in the walls, random boards just leaning against them and many more pipes. One was right above the ledge, one was leaking above more machinery next to the coffins and two more went around the next corner. 

How did this place get so big?

He looked down at Bendy, who had his tail raised in a question mark shape and was staring around the room curiously. His own tail was hovering close to the ground behind him, not moving very much but the tip kept twitching more than he liked. Willing it to hold it still was surprisingly difficult, so he almost didn’t notice the small demon letting go of his hand and approaching the little shrine in front of them, inspecting the sticker closely. He looked back at Henry questioningly while pointing back and forth between it and himself. 

“Yep, that’s you buddy.” Amused, he stepped next to him, “Although admittedly it’s not entirely accurate. The eyes are too big and the arms too short.”

Bendy looked back at the sticker and then pulled a face. 

“Yeah, I don’t like it either. Don’t ask me why Joey decided to change the proportions. Something about it being more appealing to kids. But to be honest I think they just look creepy. You look way cuter.” Grinning, he reached down and patted the space between Bendy’s horns who returned the happy expression. His head felt surprisingly soft and fuzzy, like he was covered in extremely short fur. The horns on the other hand were hard and smooth, like polished rock, but pleasantly warm. It was startling to feel such three-dimensional texture despite the demon looking two-dimensional.

Both of them went back to inspecting the shrine, checking the bacon soup cans first. As much as he hated the thought of eating 30 year old soup without an expiration date, he doubted they would find any other food down here, which left him with no other choice. Right on cue Bendy’s stomach started to rumble loudly while doing the accompanying cartoony wobble.

“You hungry too?” 

Bendy nodded sheepishly.

“Alright, let’s see if this stuff is still edible.” Upon spotting Bendy’s confused look he added “This stuff is at least 30 years old. That’s also why I’m going to try it before letting you eat any of it.” 

An understanding nod was the answer.

With a sigh, he leaned the axe against the wall, grabbed his army knife and opened the can with it. The strong ink smell in the air made it difficult to determine whether or not it had gone bad, but it was either passing out or taking a chance. Giving Bendy another look, he took a small sip. It tasted surprisingly well. Better than the last time he had it actually. Guess standing here for so long had made the bacon and vegetables soak up the spices much more.

“Huh.” He raised an eyebrow at it, then handed the can over to the toon. “It tastes alright so it should be good.” 

The demon grabbed it happily, his raised tail wagging from side to side in excitement. He also started to chug it down so quickly that Henry nearly took it away from him again. Instead he just grabbed his arm.

“Slow down there, buddy! If you eat that fast on a completely empty stomach you’ll get sick.”

With another nod, the toon continued to sip the soup much slower, while he opened one for himself. Once they were done, he watched Bendy immediately jump over to the banjo. After getting an approving nod from the man, he started to happily pluck away at the strings. It would probably be best to take a moment to digest anyways, so he decided to lean onto the wall, listening to the slightly off tune melody, which he recognized as one of the first songs Sammy had composed for the show. How the little devil knew it was beyond him. Trying to distract himself from the grief slowly creeping in, his eyes wandered over to the bowls filled with soup. It looked fresh. He looked back at the camera practically staring holes into them. He glared back, noticing a little too late that his tail had started to twitch around again. 

While keeping an eye on the still occupied toon, he picked up his axe and went further into the room. Now that he could see around the corner, he noticed a new poster to his left, advertising the episode “Train Troubles” with Bendy conducting a steam engine. Next to it was a small box with a lightning bolt on it. With the wall no longer blocking his view he also found a tape recorder on the other ledge next to another sticker. It was labeled “Sammy Lawrence”. His heart squeezed painfully. 

Before he pressed play, he looked back up to find Bendy had abandoned the banjo in favor of following him around like a duckling. He hopped up onto the chair to take a closer look at the tape in the man’s hand, then gave him a questioning look while raising his own.

Henry grinned although it looked just a tiny bit too crooked to be genuine, “Sure, have a go.”

Not noticing the sudden shift in his companions mood, the toon excitedly pressed play, letting the smooth voice of the music director fill the room, his words making a chill run down Henry’s spine.

_ He appears from the shadows to reign his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you my savior. _

_ I pray you hear me. _

_ Those old songs, yes, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace. _

_ But, love requires sacrifice. _

_ Can I get an amen? _

There was a moment of silence. Suddenly, the voice echoed through the room again. It wasn’t coming from the recorder this time.

“I said: Can I get an  **amen** ?”

He whipped around, axe at the ready, stepping in front of Bendy who had nearly jumped off the chair at the scare.

The room was empty. They were alone.

Henry eyed both the hallway they came from as well as the one leading away. It was eerily quiet, except for the creaking wood and the wind whistling through the hall. He couldn’t hear any footsteps.

The voice had sounded like Sammy. But Sammy had gone missing years ago. Could he have been here the entire time? Why? How? How had nobody found him? Why did he not show himself? And what happened to him? That couldn’t have been him. It just couldn’t. The voice fit but not the words. Whoever that was had sounded absolutely delusional. 

After a few moments of nothing happening, he lowered the axe and looked at Bendy, only to realize that his tail had wrapped itself protectively around the small toon. Said toon had grabbed onto his sweater, peeking out from behind his back with his tail tucked between his legs twitching nervously. 

“You okay?”

He shakily nodded, looking both confused and unnerved but the man couldn’t tell if it was because of the voice or his own sudden defensiveness. 

“Sorry about that. I don’t react well to people sneaking up on me. I’ve… had some bad experiences in that regard.”

The demon nodded in understanding and eased up a little, but kept his hand on Henry’s sweater. 

“Come on, let’s keep going.”

He offered him his hand again. Despite looking a little unsure he took it and they started walking towards the new corner. Henry hoped he was the only one who noticed the ritual circle by the coffins.

Passing the corner, Bendy stuck his tongue out at the cutout and blew it a raspberry. Usually the man would have been amused, but the candles and two bowls of fresh bacon soup standing at the feet of the cutout only fed his unease. Once around, they found a giant ink stain on the floor, a “Work Hard Work Happy” poster and, going left again, an entire hallway flooded with ink. There were two pipes on the right side of the wall, neither of them leaking. Instead the ink was coming down from the ceiling, one giant pillar of it even reaching all the way to the ground, dripping much slower and looking much thicker than ink was supposed to be. Loose boards were strewn about and a chair was lying on its side, half submerged in the black liquid. 

Great. He made the first step, shivering at the extreme cold. Bendy followed suit, but shot back out immediately, letting go of Henry’s hand in the process. He was shaking all over, the black part of his face was dripping into the white and his legs looked like they were melting.

“Bendy? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Bendy frantically shook his head and tried to sign again.

**voices. bad.**

Voices? Henry wasn’t hearing any voices? Confused, he looked down at the ink and back to Bendy. Then he quickly stepped out and kneeled down next to him, putting down the axe and slightly opening his arms. The terrified toon took the offer immediately, curling himself into the man’s chest. He started to gently rub circles over his back and curl his tail around him once more while still keeping an eye on his surroundings. Even though the shaking calmed down and his legs became solid again after a few moments, the demon was still scared of taking another step into the ink.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

A shaky nod was his answer, so he gently lifted him onto his right arm and took the axe with his left, surprised at how light the little one was. He turned to go down the hallway, only to jump as his tail dipped into the freezing liquid. He really needed to pay more attention to that thing. For now he decided to just loosely wrap it around his arm. The scare had made Bendy tighten his grip onto his sweater, but he eased up a little when he noticed that Henry had only scared himself with his own tail. He even chuckled lightly.

Finally continuing, the ink sloshed loudly as he walked through, trying his best to avoid the dripping from above. For whatever reason, the floor of this particular hallway was so low and so flooded that he stood ankle-deep in it. He had almost reached the end of the hallway, when he started to hear footsteps approaching. Seconds later, a very tall, humanoid figure wearing nothing but sepia overalls and a mask of some sort walked past the doorway. They were carrying a cutout and mumbling something under their breath. Normally, he would have asked them for help, but the weird shine of their black, inky body and the second set of arms only barely visible from below the cutout kept him silent. Bendy on the other hand started waving to try and get the person’s attention only to be ignored completely. Henry was glad for it but the demon looked at him in confusion and disappointment. He just shrugged and kept walking once the figure was out of sight. 

Once he stepped through the doorway, he quietly let down the demon, unwrapped his tail from his arm and tightened the grip on his axe. However, the other person had somehow vanished despite walking right into a dead end to the left. The only things there were another cutout in front of a ritual circle, some more offerings and a big shelf filled with at least two dozen bacon soup cans. 

Where the hell did they go?

Bendy looked just as lost as he did but shrugged and started to inspect the shelf. With another look at the cutout Henry turned around to follow the short path going right, motioning for the demon to follow him. The little one complied quickly and took his hand the moment it was within reach. While walking the man purposely swished his tail behind himself. If anybody snuck up, they would get smacked. As they continued, they passed another pipe on the left and a dark alcove to their right, revealing a giant stone statue of Bendy, covered in ink stains. It was about Henry’s height, but the pedestal it was standing on boosted it by at least two heads. The man stopped for a moment, looking over at Bendy. He was frowning at the statue and his face was slightly dripping again.

“Are you hearing the voices again?” 

The demon nodded. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

Pushing the quiet whispering away they walked past the barrel and camera in the corner going left again. As he got further away from the statue, the voices faded into silence.

He gave Bendy a worried look, “Do you still hear them?”

The shake of his head made him relax a little. Now he turned his attention towards the large shutter blocking the path in front of them. It was connected to a tall, buzzing console marked with a lightning bolt and a small lever next to three blinking lights. When he attempted to pull it, it refused to move. He stared at it in thought, choosing to ignore the deja vu.

“If we manage to get power to this gate, maybe we can open it. The switches we need to flip for that should be scattered nearby. I think I saw one in the big room earlier.”

Bendy looked at him slightly confused.

“Yeaaah, Joey loved to make things overly complicated.” He sighed, remembering the others antics far too well. “Why put the necessary switches close to the gate or in a specific power room, when you can scatter them around and make a scavenger hunt out of it.”

The first switch was easy to find and so was the second. One was in the power box they had seen earlier and the other was next to the coffins in an identical one. It was hidden behind a board so they hadn’t immediately seen it. The last one was a bit difficult though, because it certainly wasn’t in here. Henry was about to head back to the ritual room, but Bendy tugged at his pants and pointed back towards the gate. Following the demon’s wishes, they headed back through the hallway, where he quickly hopped off the man’s arm and over to the shelf. Pushing aside the bacon soup on the lowest board revealed an open power box and a blinking switch.

“Nice job, buddy, that’s hidden pretty well! I didn’t notice that at all.”

The demon lit up like the flipped switch at the praise and practically bounced to the console. All three lights were now permanently on and this time he managed to easily pull the lever. Clattering loudly, the gate opened, revealing a boarded up doorway and a large, dark hall behind it. Once the shutter was fully raised, a light went on somewhere on the right side of the room with a loud clack. Henry and Bendy grinned at each other, but their joy at their achievement froze as a breathless, pain filled groan echoed through the hallway.

It had come from the room up ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would very much appreciate feedback on how I did with writing two character with the same pronouns, because I really can't tell. If there's any parts where you can't tell who is who please tell me. Same if you have any other tipps on how to switch between them without constantly going "the man" or "the toon/demon".


	8. Monsters and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo has found the music department. What horrors will await them there?

Henry stared at the new hallway in uncertainty. Bendy, however, didn’t seem fazed at all by the noise and started walking towards the new path but he quickly stepped in front of him. 

“How about I go first? And you stay close to me?”, he suggested, using a calm smile to hide his worry.

Even though the demon looked a bit confused, he obeyed and stood behind him as he carefully went to the door, taking a look into the hall. Once he was certain that it was empty, he swiftly cut apart the boards and slowly entered.

A big, ornamented wall stood in the center of a green tinged room, practically cutting it in two. It was an unexpected change from the constant sepia. There was a closed shutter on the left and, tucked between it and the middle wall, a big alcove with a chair, trash can and a small black screen, currently displaying nothing. A closed door in said alcove seemed to be leading into another room behind or in the centre wall. The red dot of a camera greeted them from there as well. The right path went past an alcove opposite to the shutter and straight up a flight of stairs. Another camera was also watching them from that corner. 

Turning around showed a second door labeled “STAIRS” right next to the one they had entered from. Many episode posters and pictures of music notes, identical to the one in the break room, were covering the walls and beautiful stucco was lining the ceiling. It looked like lines on a music sheet, including notes.

Strangely, whoever had groaned wasn’t in the room anymore. They must have gone into a different one but considering how pained they had sounded, it was unlikely that they had moved themselves. Maybe it had been whoever hurt them in the first place?

Bendy seemed to share neither his caution nor understanding of the situation, which only amplified his unease. At least he was following Henry’s order of staying close and being quiet, but his eyes were wide in amazement and his tail raised high at what he was seeing. His own tail stayed close to the ground, loosely curled around the little one. 

No way did he want him to wander off on his own.

As quietly as he could and with Bendy following close behind, he stepped towards the middle wall to take a closer look, immediately recognizing the decorations. Beneath a set of speakers, a giant painted banner proudly displayed the words “MUSIC DEPARTMENT” with a second, smaller one beneath it adding “Director: Sammy Lawrence” in barely readable white on black letters. They were surrounded by painted music notes and several framed awards. Just above the ground hung three vinyl records, all of them old songs from the show, although there was a big space between the second and third. He definitely remembered a fourth one being there. New was the little ledge on the left, seemingly made for the audio log standing on it. A trash can beneath it and a gramophone standing by a cutout on the opposite end of the wall had been added as well. Same went for the small pipes at its sides, coming out of it and connecting it with the ceiling.

Despite it all looking much more beautiful than the hallways they had come from, the wear and tear of time was still noticeable. Ink splatters covered the speakers, the ground, even the walls, the paint was chipped and the smell of dust and ink filled the air. The wooden halls creaked and groaned, only interrupted by the loud wind whistling through the vents. 

Considering the pipes, especially the ones going through the open ceiling, the splatters really weren’t that weird. At least the hole was only above this wall and half covered by a big grid. Still, the open end of a giant pipe remained right in the open, hanging right above them. Just what could the department have used  _ that _ for?

For now, the stairwell behind them appeared to be the best way to go. It was closest and looked empty at first glance.

Bingo.

A door labeled “Exit” stood at the bottom of the stairwell. It was also kind of flooded. The six leaking pipes littering the walls and ceiling above were probably the cause of that. Apart from those there was also a lever marked with a lightning bolt right next to the door and, of course, a camera silently watching them. 

Bendy was looking at the pool with his tail slightly tucked between his legs. The excitement from before had completely vanished, so Henry tapped the stairwell with the axe to catch his attention, “Looks like we need to drain the stairwell if we’re going to get out of here. You ready to search?”

The toon lit up immediately at the chance to get away from the ink. He nodded and quickly started to jump back into the other room only to freeze suddenly. To Henry’s relief, he had just remembered that he was supposed to be careful and proceeded to dramatically sneak and peek around the door. It was like watching a child playing spy. 

With a sigh, he pulled the lever, not taking his eyes off the little devil darling. He was hoping that it would open up the shutter but instead of the expected clatter, they heard loud clacks echo through the hall. When they turned back, the room hadn’t changed much but the big pipe had started dripping for some reason. It took him a few seconds to realize that the green tinge was now gone and the lights were illuminating the room in warm sepia tones. 

He was just about to head in after Bendy, but he was gone. 

_ Oh no. _

He was just about to call the little guy, but then his head peeked out from behind the barrel. 

_ Oh thank god.  _

Wait. How did he manage to fit his entire body behind there?

Just as he had finished that thought, the toon had already vanished again only to somehow reappear behind the trash can?? 

The demon himself took a few seconds to realize what he had done but once he did, he looked just as baffled as Henry.

He was still looking at the can and scratching his horns in confusion, when a very large blob of ink suddenly fell from the pipe and startled him so much he jumped at least three feet into the air. Neither of them moved, both staring at the black stain. Out of nowhere, the speakers crackled to life, abruptly cutting through the silence with a bouncy banjo tune.

He didn’t like that. Oh he didn’t like that at all.   
  
Before he could even take a step, a large, inky claw shot out from the puddle, grabbing Bendy’s arm.

The toon reeled backwards, trying to free himself but whatever was in there had an iron grip and refused to let go. Without a second thought, Henry lunged forward, grabbing him, trying to pull him away. 

Another claw shot out, slamming into the floor and slowly, a skeletal humanoid torso heaved itself out of the ink. It was dripping heavily, empty eye sockets staring at them, mouth unhinged and somehow opening much further than any humans was supposed to. It wheezed out the most pained sound he had heard in years. It sounded like someone at the edge of death.

Holding Bendy with one arm, he gripped the axe tighter and swung it right at its head. There was a sickening squelch and the creature let go, abruptly falling apart with a loud splat, its ink sickering through the floor. 

The music sped up and a clarinet joined the banjo. A loud chorus of moans followed as more and more of the creatures started to rise from the ground. Some were more skeletal than others, some were complete, some were missing parts and some even had a few arms or heads too many. The ink that replaced any missing bones was looking noodly and way too much like a rubberhose limb. They started to drag themselves across the floor, digging their claws into the boards, slowly inching closer and closer and closer. 

His eyes quickly scanned the room. They were surrounded and had nowhere to run. 

Wait. One opening. 

Bolting past the… things, towards the stairwell, he just barely managed to dodge their claws trying to get a hold of him. The knee piece in his prosthetic kept locking up, nearly making him trip over his own leg. It was still empty. He dropped the terrified demon in his arms and turned around to face their attackers.

“Stay there! Watch my back!”

He grabbed the axe with both hands and started swinging at any creature that came too close. Thanks to the doorway, they started blocking each other, their inky bodies becoming nearly indistinguishable, all trying to get to them at once. Their moans and groans filled the room, mixing horribly with the upbeat music from the speakers. With each swing, another one fell. Fresh ink coated his hands, making his grip on the axe slippery. 

Suddenly, something urgently tugged at his tail, a loud alarming whistle piercing through the air. Snapping around, he saw Bendy wildly pointing down the stairs, where another creature had risen from the ink pool and was slowly crawling its way up. This one's face was split open in the middle, all the way down to the rib cage, showing what was more akin to a black hole. 

The ones in front of him used that short distraction to grab onto the axe, yanking him forward, nearly tearing it out of his grasp.   
  
_ Oh no you don’t! _

He ripped it back, rammed its hilt into the creature's head, then splattered it across the wall. Grabbing his knife, he clumsily spun around, whipping his tail into the faces of the others, practically slicing through them. With one throw he embedded it in the sneaky one’s head, spun back and used his momentum to cut off the next arm reaching for him. The mass of ink started to recede. Less and less of the creatures attacked at once, their rows lightened and the groaning died down. One more swing and the last one melted away, all of the left over ink vanishing beneath the floor. The room was empty, the music slowed and finally faded into silence. It was as though nothing had happened.

A loud clattering disrupted the silence once more. The shutter to the left slowly opened. Otherwise, the room remained quiet. 

Panting heavily, Henry lowered the axe. Oh how much he wished right now that he had a few years less. Only after a minute of silence and nothing else coming from the shutter, did he allow himself to ease up and look back at Bendy. The toon stood a bit away, giving him room. His tail was tucked between his legs and he was still looking scared. 

“Are you… are you okay?” 

The demon nodded, signing with shaking hands

**“Scared. Not hurt. You?”**

“I’m… I’m fine, just need to… catch my breath… I’m not used to this much action anymore. But I think… I think it’s safe now.” He looked through the room again, just to make sure. Then nodded at the toon again. 

Said toon eased up a little and slowly moved next to him, holding onto his leg. His eyes kept scanning the room over and over. He also wrapped his tail around Henry’s, linking the two together. Hesitantly, he returned the gesture and gently patted the demon’s head.

“Hey, it’s ok. They’re gone.” he raised the axe, “And now they also have an  _ ink _ ling of what happens when they mess with us.”

He got a weak smile and a soft snicker for that. Just like in the cartoons, the laugh was made from short little whistles instead of an actual laughing track.

A playful grin formed on his face, “There we go, there’s that wonderful smile I know and love. It really  _ lights up _ the room!” he pointed towards the light above the door, causing the toon to snicker louder.

“And would you listen to that laugh, it’s real  _ music _ to my ears.”

By now Bendy was no longer snickering but loudly laughing, the happy whistles dispersing the tension in the room. After he had calmed down, he gave Henry a grateful and determined look.

**“Let’s go find that pump!”**

His signs were much more clear and the movements much more fluent than his previous attempts. He was improving rapidly.

“Alright, could you go grab my knife? As you may have noticed, I’m not the best with stairs.” 

Nodding and unhooking their tails, Bendy carefully went to pick up the weapon, making sure not to get too close to the ink. While he did so, Henry leaned onto the wall, checking his prosthetic. He couldn’t spot anything on the outside (not that surprising since it was completely covered in ink) but when he moved it, the knee joint reacted a bit slow, like something was blocking it. It even started to lock up when he tried more abrupt movements. Looks like the fall had done more damage than he had thought.

At least those monsters had been rather slow, so outrunning them wouldn’t be too difficult, should they run into them again. He doubted that they were their only company down here, so hopefully they were also the fastest. What even were they? They had looked like living corpses made from ink?? And was there any way to notice them coming? They had seemingly come out of nowhere, except the puddle one. 

Lost in his thoughts, It took him a moment to notice the little demon standing next him. He would just have to keep his eyes open.

As the toon gave him his surprisingly clean weapon back, he stared at the mechanical leg in fascination, but his twitching tail tip also showed worry. He reached his arm out, giving Henry a questioning look.

“Sure, just don’t pull at it.”

He closely inspected the leg, looking more confused by the second, especially when he grabbed onto Henry’s still whole leg for comparison. 

The man chuckled, “It’s a prosthetic. It’s basically a mechanical leg replacement. I used to have two legs like this,” he patted his good leg, “but there was an accident and this one had to be amputated.”

**“What?”**

“Cut off.” 

Bendy looked at him in shock.

“Yeah, that was my first reaction too. But it’s good that it’s gone. It would have healed all wrong and twisted and I would have been in constant pain. With the prosthetic I can walk nearly as well as before, although admittedly stairs and steps still give me trouble. But it was definitely the better option. I don’t regret making that choice.”

It took a moment for the toon to process his words and he slowly nodded in understanding.

“And hey, this way I can say that I left behind a real  _ leg _ acy.”

Bendy snorted.

Now that the shutter was now open, they had more options to look around. Those options included two more doors on the right as well as another path splitting off to the left. He could also spot a big window with a black sign above and a cutout next to it at the end. The next camera didn’t leave them waiting either. It was hanging next to the sign and was already staring at them. 

While Bendy was eyeing their options of where to go next, including the door next to the black screen, which was now displaying the word “RECORDING”, Henry’s eyes fell onto the tape in the current room. It was once again labelled “Sammy Lawrence”. His gut turned at that but he pressed play anyways. The audio log on the first floor had given him hints on how to proceed and this one was practically standing in a spotlight. 

Unlike the earlier tape, the music director actually sounded like himself in this one and the familiarity of his smooth but irritated voice somehow calmed him despite the situation. 

_ So first Joey installs this ink machine over our heads. Then it begins to leak. Three times last month, we couldn’t even get out of our department because the ink had flooded the stairwell. _

_ Joey’s solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically. Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office. People in and out all day. _

_ Thanks Joey. Just what I needed. _

_ More distractions.  _

_ T _ _ hese damn cartoon songs don’t write themselves you know. _

Honestly? Considering what Connor had said on the previous tape, it really wasn’t surprising that the pipes had led to more than one accident. But why would Joey put the pump switch in Sammy’s office of all places? He knew how much the man hated interruptions when he was concentrating. Not to mention how easily he got sensory overloads. Wouldn’t it have been better to put it in the hallway instead?

He grinned at Bendy who had been listening intently as well. “Looks like we found the jackpot of directions. This place has changed a lot since the last time I was here, but the glass window at the end of that hallway reminds me a lot of what Sammy’s office used to look like.”

However, before they went there Henry first wanted to take a look down the short path splitting off from the big hallway, since it was labeled “INFIRMARY”. Even if the medical supplies had probably expired decades ago, it was better than nothing. Too bad that what he assumed was a stairwell leading to said infirmary was flooded all the way to the top. Of course it was. They find something to help them in case the monsters get them and Joey’s bad spending habits completely erase that hope. 

_ Thanks Joey. _

Disappointed, the two headed towards the window. The hallway soon opened up into a bigger room, with a punch clock and an accompanying “SAVE YOUR JOB” poster in the right corner as well as another door labeled “CLOSET” in the opposite one. The glass window was in the middle of the wall in front of them, showing a big office with a desk, chair and shelf. The pump switch was in there as well. He could also see another mural above the desk, but the window was so small it cut off the letters. The sign on the other hand was very much readable and confirmed his guess. 

“Office of Sammy Lawrence, Music department director” 

The small white arrow beneath the words pointed towards a door in an alcove to the left. But, just as it was apparently with every path they took, something was blocking it. In this case it was two heavily leaking pipes right above and next to the door. For whatever reason the floor in that corner was also lowered, so the ink formed a little pool, making Bendy step a few feet away again. At least the tape that was standing on another spotlight-ledge on the wall opposite to the door was out of the ink’s spray zone. 

He sighed, “Well there’s the pump switch alright. But we need to find a way to stop the ink flow before we can get through that leak.”

The toon nodded and looked around. While Henry went to grab the tape he could hear the little devil trying to open the closet door.

Luckily, the tape was close enough that he didn’t have to step into the pool to get it but he couldn’t dodge the inky sprays entirely. Going back, Bendy gave him a disappointed look and pointed at the closet.

**“It’s locked.”**

“Of course it is. Well, if we’re lucky Wally here,” he held up the tape, “is gonna tell us where he lost his keys again. As janitor he had the master keys to almost every door in the studio.”

_ So I go to get my dustpan from the hall closet the other day and guess what? I can’t find my stupid keys. It’s like they disappeared into thin air or something. _

_ All I can think of is that they must have fallen in one of the garbage cans as I was making my rounds last week. _

_ I just hope nobody tells Sammy. Because if he finds out I lost my keys again, I’m outta here. _

That was… weird. Sammy may have gotten exasperated at the janitor’s habit of regularly misplacing things but he had never gotten truly angry at him for it. He had even tried to figure out ways to help him lose stuff  _ less _ . Why would Wally have been scared of his friend finding out about a simple accident?

Bendy suddenly grinned at him mischievously, making the man raise an eyebrow.

**“He should have checked the piano. It has many keys.”**

He snorted. Oh the amount of times Sammy had made that exact same joke. 

“Maybe we’ll find one in the other rooms. Let’s just hope there’s no tuna there. I really don’t want to know what 30 year old tuna smells like.” He grimaced at the thought. “The soup may have survived but tuna? Ew.”

The demon tilted his head and looked at him confused.

“Well how else are you supposed to tuna piano?”

Now both of them were snickering. At least the toon had kept his sense of humor when coming into the real world.

“Heh. But in all seriousness, let’s see if we can find those keys. So far they’re the only lead we have and even if they have nothing to do with the ink flow, maybe we’ll find the pump along the way. What do you say?”

Still snickering, the demon nodded.

Their first stop were the doors in this hallway. The first one led into an office with two desks, some posters, a violin, an abstract painting filled with black and sepia coloured squares and an empty trash can. The walls in this room were completely covered in paper sheets for whatever reason and there were many many more scattered across the floor around the desks. 

While looking through everything, Bendy stopped at one desk, staring at something. His tail started to droop. 

It was a small “reference sheet”, displaying his grinning face several times, each labeled “Happy”, “Sad”, “Disgust” and “Angry”. There was also a little note saying “DO NOT LET JOEY SEE THIS” stuck to it. 

The frown on the living demon’s face told Henry enough. Decisively, he stepped next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. He took the paper, crumpled it up and threw it into the trash can, making the toon stare at him in shock.

“What? It’s obviously not true so why let it lie there for the whole world to see?”

His frown twitched upwards, slowly turning into a small smile.  **Thank you.**

“Not for that.” He returned the expression. “Now come on, it’s time to find those keys.”

Heading into the next room, they found it to be nearly empty, aside from a small organ and some pipes going up the walls. With stars in his eyes and tail raised high again, Bendy immediately went to test it. The man watched in amusement as he slammed his hands down onto the keys, making the pipes blow out a very loud disharmonic sound. Before he could try again, however, a pained groan wheezed out of the pipes. Both of them froze. They shared one look and left as quickly as they could.

Back in the big hall, they checked the two trash cans there, once again finding nothing, not even when they checked the room next to the recording sign. That one didn’t even have a trash can, just a barrel, music stand and another door. As curious as they were, Henry decided it would be better to check the rest of the room first. That proved to be a good idea, since they found another, albeit empty, can in the little alcove next to the stairs leading up, as well as another door that had been hidden from view earlier. 

There was also a poster for Alice Angel, advertising her debut episode “Sent from above”. She was the last of the main trio from the cartoons. A fallen angel with both halo and horns, she had often sung to the tunes Boris had played on his clarinet while Bendy had happily danced along. 

A look behind the corner door revealed a big storage room with a closed shutter in the opposite wall. It was filled with several music stands, barrels, crates, some pipes, a camera on the ceiling and, surprisingly enough, a pool table. The pool balls were already put into place as though a new game was just about to start, with the coloured ones lying in a triangle at the end while the white one was a bit away, ready to get shot at them. 

Bendy quickly jumped over to try his hand at the game but he was just a tiny bit too short. No matter how much he stretched himself, he just couldn’t look over the table. In the end, he resorted to picking up his floating head and holding it above it. That was one way of solving that. 

He looked back at Henry excitedly,  **“Can we play?”**

“As much as I would love to, I don’t see any pool staffs in the room.”

There was indeed not a single pool staff. Even though Bendy looked through every corner, he couldn’t find one. In the end, he pointed at Henry’s axe.

“Sorry buddy, but this thing is for clearing paths and self defense only. Besides, the hilt’s all crooked and way too short. I don’t think playing with that would be much fun. And we have keys to find, remember?”

His tail was dragging across the ground in disappointment but he understood that reasoning and slowly followed him out of the room. That didn’t stop him from kicking the small dust bunnies floating through the air though.

Luckily the room upstairs quickly lit up his mood again, which turned out to be the projection booth. Despite the narrow balcony being just wide enough for a desk in front of two posters and trash can, the space itself was big enough to fit several people. The right wall was covered in unmoving machinery, including dials, screens and a working camera, while the left was an open wall, with a projector and reels standing on the railing. 

Looking into the room down below revealed it to be the music hall. It was a giant and high room, with a big open space in front of a small stage filled with chairs, instruments and music stands. A lone cutout sat there, silently staring at them. Behind it was a large screen for the projector to play on, so that the musicians could synchronize their music to the respective clip. Since they also had to be recorded, several microphones were attached to long metal rods hanging from the ceiling. Next to the stage, below two giant pipes, they could see a closed shutter and a small currently lit recording booth in the corner next to it.

Letting the demon admire the hall, Henry stepped over to take a look at the trash can. It was empty as well, but at least there was another audio log on the desk. For once, it was neither one of Sammy’s nor Wally’s. No, it was the one name he had least expected to see. Norman Polk, their former projectionist. Even though the man had the ability to speak, he preferred not to and instead wrote things down or talked via ASL. This also meant that he had never really used the tapes, except for the few times Joey had forced him to do so. 

Leaning onto the desk, Henry pressed play. The projectionist’s deep voice was somewhat hoarse but his strong southern accent hadn’t lessened at all.

_ I don’ know what’s going on in this here studio anymore. Ever since Henry left, things just went downhill. First Joey starts keeping secrets. Then Susie starts acting weird an’ now she’s vanished an’ Sammy’s caught it. Keeps muttering to nobody an’ shuttin’ himself in his office even more so than before. He even blew up at Wally last week, just because he lost his keys. _

_ Then sometimes, sometimes he does this thing. I’ll be up here in ma booth, the band will be swingin’ and he just comes marchin’ in and shuts da whole thing down. Tells us all to wait in the hall. _

_ Then he starts up my projector and then he dashes from the projection booth and down to da recordin’ studio like the little devil himself was chasing behind.  _

_ Few seconds later, projector turns off. But Sammy, oh no, he don’t come out for a long time. _

_ I asked him about it, but he just told me off. Told me to mind my own business. I got half a mind to talk with the others about this, but these damn pipes keep burstin’ so Wally barely ever catches a break. An’ Jack keeps hidin’ in the sewers an’ only comes out if Sammy calls him, how he can stand that smell is beyond me. An’ Joey, Joey’s a different topic all on his own. _

His grip on the tape tightened. If things had been this bad, then why? Why had they stayed? He had told Sammy hadn’t he? He had called the day after, asking about what had happened since he had left without a word and Joey of course had decided to twist the story. He had said that he would tell the others, convince them to quit as well. 

But they hadn’t. Instead, they had cut off all contact with him.

Why? Just why? Why had they done that? Had Joey given them the more convincing story? But then why hadn’t they checked their contracts, like Henry had told them to? Why hadn’t they given him a chance to explain, face to face? Why had they just shut him out, never answered his calls or letters, refused to open their doors, refused to give him a listen? Why? Why, why,  _ why _ ? 

Why had they left him behind? 

Had he been that bad of a friend? 

Tiny footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. Bendy had carefully walked up to him, looking at him worriedly. His tail was wrapped around himself and he carefully asked “ **You okay?”**

It was only now that he realized that his own tail was wrapped tightly around his own leg.

“I… yeah. I was just… lost in thought. Reminiscing a little.” He gave him his best fake smile, “It’s been a few years since I was last here after all.”

The demon stayed quiet for a moment, then copied his smile the best he could and hesitantly pointed at the music hall.

“Yeah we can go there. The keys aren’t here either so it’s the last place to check. But let’s try to”, he gave him a strained grin, “stay out of  _ treble _ .”

His attempt to light the mood only worked partially this time, but they continued nevertheless. Now that they were going down the stairs, they could see the big Bendy face plastered onto the wall above it.

As they were walking, the small toon slipped his hand into Henry’s, gently squeezing it. The man gave him a weak but grateful smile.

Upon entering the music hall, they were greeted with another giant Bendy grin from above a recording booth. There was also a second balcony right next to the projection booth. This one was much smaller and it's only occupant was another cutout peeking at them from around the wall. To its left hung the camera of this room, while a second set of pipes was mirroring the ones above the shutter to its right. Below the projection booth stood a drawer, some chairs, spare music stands, barrels and a trash can. The walls were once more decorated with paper sheets, posters and ink stains, but at least the floor was clean. 

Somehow, the cutout that had been sitting on the stage was now missing.

The demon it was imitating either ignored it or didn’t notice, dashing onto the stage immediately to pluck the cords of the banjo at the front left of the stage. In total, there were five instruments in the room: the banjo, a drum in the corner behind it, a violin lying on a front row chair and a cello in the right corner. The piano was standing a few ways off, in front of the recording booth, with another tape lying next to it. 

Deciding to leave the toon to his fun, Henry went to check the trash can, finally finding what they were looking for.

“AHA!” he triumphantly raised the janitor’s keys in the air for the other to see, who imitated the man’s outburst with a loud whistle. He then deflated just as quickly, looking at the instruments and back at him with disappointment.

With an amused sigh, Henry shook his head, “Alright, alright, we can stay for another moment. I wanted to check that tape anyways.”

Turning his back to the toon, the thunderin bang of the drum almost immediately assaulted his ears. As he bent down to pick up the tape, his tail lightly brushed against the piano.

‘CLANG’

Both toon and man jumped, the latter nearly dropping the tape. Luckily, it had only been the open top of the piano falling shut.

He relaxed with a loud sigh, “Guess I should take better  _ note _ of my surroundings, eh?”

While still keeping an eye on the now snickering devil, he took a closer look at the tape. “Susie Campbell”. Ah, the lone woman in their group. 

The high notes of a surprisingly well played violin echoed through the hall. 

She had been their first voice actress and hit off surprisingly quickly with Norman, which might have had to do with him offering her his booth for her daily salāt. Apart from the recording booth, it had been the only place where she could pray in peace. 

_ It may only be my second month working for Joey Drew, but I can already tell I’m going to love it here! The people here are all so kind and fun.  _

_ These past few weeks I’ve voiced everything, from talking chairs to dancing chickens, but when I finally got the chance to try out for Alice Angel, I was so nervous. She’s one of the main characters! I was so worried that I read her character wrong, but both Henry and Sammy said I was spot on. I still can’t believe I actually got the part! _

_ Oh, I could burst from happiness! _

Heh. He still remembered that. Despite her stage fright, she had hit the nail on the head with her interpretation. Not to mention her fantastic voice. It was… consoling to hear it again after such a long time.

The squeaking of the cello luckily kept him from once again slipping too far down memory lane. Looking up he had to snort at the scene before him.

The instrument towered over the tiny demon by at least a head, but it was still short enough that standing on a chair made him too tall to play, so he was standing on the ground, with his arm stretched out at a length that should technically be impossible, just so he could hold its neck. Now he really wanted to see him use a double bass. Maybe Cecilia would let him use hers in exchange for some nougat cookies.

Once the toon was done plucking at the strings, he quickly skipped over to finally try the piano. At first he was just climpering a random melody, but the longer he played, the more Henry recognized another show tune, its happy bounce making both his foot and tail tap along. Suddenly, Bendy jumped off the chair and started to tap dance. Just like the melody, his steps were clumsy at first, but quickly grew more confident. 

Henry watched the joyful demon with a soft smile on his face, warmth slowly spreading through his chest. It was as though he was watching Bendy’s debut on the big screen for the first time again. Only this time, it was real. Bendy was real. It was something he had daydreamed about so many times, but never thought would actually happen. And yet here he was. Standing inside the rotting halls of his old studio, covered head to toe in ink, somehow sprouting a tail and watching the cartoon he had drawn so many times happily dance to a tune only he could hear. If it weren’t for how he got here and the strange creatures from earlier, he would have called this all a strange but definitely wonderful dream. 

The dancing demon in front of him twirled one more time, took his final step and stretched his arms out as wide as he could, posing and bowing for his sole viewer. Henry’s delighted clapping made his grin stretch even wider and his tail started to wag.

He bowed once more, this time so far his horns touched the ground. As he straightened back up, he excitedly signed  **“Thank you!”**

It took a while until the cheerful demon had calmed down enough for the two to continue. His tail continued to wag until they reached the closet. There, Henry jokingly punched the punch clock, mumbling “Always on time”. Seeing that, Bendy quickly imitated him, hitting the poor clock several times, its clacking only winding him up even more. In the meantime, Henry went to unlock the closet, finding several cans of bacon soup, candles, two metal dustpans, and another tape from Sammy. The other Sammy, specifically.

_ Every artistic person needs a sanctuary. Joey has his and I have mine. To enter, you need only know my favourite song: _

_ The drum thunders in triumph.  _

_ The bass fiddle sings with deep articulation.  _

_ The piano delicately calls.  _

_ The banjo playfully plucks. _

_ Sing my song and my sanctuary will open to you. _

Well. That was an interesting way to lock a door.

However, even after repeating the order of the instruments several times, nothing happened. He hummed in thought, while Bendy looked confused. Something was missing. His eyes wandered through the room and landed on the projector. Hadn’t Norman mentioned something about Sammy using it? Beckoning the toon to follow, the two of them returned to the booth. Just as he was about to explain his idea to the other, his voice nearly got caught in his throat but he caught himself just in time.

The cutout was back on the stage. This time, a second one was sitting next to it.

He somehow managed to smooth over his weird stutter, “Alright, so, Sammy kept playing the projector, running into the hall and then staying there for who knows how long, right? If he had a sanctuary, he probably spent a lot of time in there. Maybe playing the instruments isn’t enough, maybe we also need to play the projector while doing so.”

Bendy nodded in thought, then started to playfully grin.

**“Let’s try it. Ready?”**

“Ready for what?”

The devil jumped up and turned on the projector. He then bolted down the stairs, leaving nothing but a Bendy-shaped dust cloud behind.

_ Oh no _

“IT’S NOT A RACE” Henry yelled after him, trying to catch up to the toon. 

His surprise at the sudden toon logic and trouble with the stairs gave the other a big head start. Since he couldn’t run at full speed either thanks to the too slow knee joint, Bendy was almost done with the instruments when he finally reached the music hall. Before he could reach the banjo, however, the man grabbed him mid-run and picked him up. 

“Kind Gottes in der Hutschachtel! Don’t just run ahead like that!” Bendy flinched at his sudden harsh tone. He continued a little softer, “What if those creatures had shown up again? And I hadn’t been there? What if they had separated us?” 

The loud ‘clack’ of the projector turning off interrupted him. He put the now very flustered looking demon back onto the ground. His tail was curled around his legs and he was looking onto the ground, so Henry knelt down on eye level with him. 

“Bendy. Look at me please.” Hesitantly, he obeyed, “Those creatures from earlier could still be around. And show up at any time, anywhere no less. The first one might have come from an obvious puddle but the others basically came out of nowhere. While I understand that you want to have fun and believe me, I do too, we need to stay close to another. At the very least stay in each other's sight. Do you understand?”

Bendy nodded, still curled in on himself.

**“I’m sorry.”**

“Apology accepted.” He gave the nervous demon an encouraging look, “Making mistakes is natural. Especially when you were just born or created or however you came into this world. The important thing is that you learn from them.” 

Another nod. The toon stood a bit straighter now but was still a bit beat down.

“Alright then, let’s find that sanctuary.” 

Just as they were about to leave, Bendy perked up and a small light suddenly lit up above his head. It disappeared just as quickly and the toon grabbed onto Henry’s sleeve, pulling him under the projection booth and excitedly pointed up.

He just looked at him confused. 

**“Lift me up! Then we won’t have to separate!”**

Oooh. 

Choosing to ignore the empty stage and the two cardboard demons staring at them from the other balcony, he crouched down so the little guy could climb onto his shoulders.

Even with the help of a chair, they only barely reached the booth, but luckily Bendy’s arms were pretty long, so he managed to hold onto the ledge and pull himself up. There, he turned the projector on once more, throwing a small clip of the episode “Tombstone Picnic” onto the screen. It showed him peeking around a tombstone, getting scared by a skeleton showing up next to him and running away as fast as his short legs could carry him. As the short clip played on repeat, Henry ran around the stage, playing the instruments in order as quickly as his prosthetic allowed him to be. 

Luckily it was quickly enough. With a last pluck of the banjo, the light above the shutter turned on and it started to open. Bendy’s victory whistle was only barely audible over the loud clattering. Grinning, he stepped below the demon and stretched his hands out towards him, not even bothering to climb onto the chair. Figuring out the man’s intention, he jumped down from the ledge, landing perfectly in his arms.

“Now that’s what I call teamwork.”

Side by side, they entered the sanctuary. At first glance, it looked like just another storage room, with a small hallway covered in tiles that took a right turn further down. The almost empty shelves were only filled with the bows of the cellos that were leaning against them. There was a big vent in the corner, with a camera hanging above it while two short pipes went into the ground beneath it. As they got closer, however, they started to hear the whispering again. It got louder and louder, until they were around the corner. Here, the room opened up a little, still small, but it now had enough room for a desk with a Bendy plushie on it, a banjo, a music stand, some books and a toilet. Right above it somebody, presumably Sammy, had written 

“SING A HAPPY SONG, 

WHISTLE A MERRY TUNE,

WAIT FOR HIS ARRIVAL,

HE’S COMING VERY SOON.”

Another ritual circle was painted onto the floor. There was also a valve labeled “FLOW” on the left wall, surrounded by two thinner pipes, both of which weren’t looking too stable. 

Bendy didn’t look like he was ready to take the first step, something that Henry was somehow glad for. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself. Then under the devil’s worried gaze, he carefully put his first foot into the circle. Nothing happened. Another step. Still awake. He was now right by the valve, in between the pipes. The voices were much louder than before. They were beckoning him again. It took all of his focus to ignore them, turning the valve and getting out of the circle as quickly as he could. Both he and Bendy let out a breath of relief. 

**“Let’s get out of here.”**

The small demon went ahead again, not running but he still had a speedy pace.

They had only gone halfway through the hall, when a cutout suddenly peeked around the corner, disappearing just as abruptly. 

Bendy had jumped behind him at the sudden scare and the man once again curled his tail around him protectively. He adjusted the grip on his axe as he cautiously stepped out of the sanctuary and into the empty music hall. The cutout was now leaning against the wall next to the shutter. Looking up, Henry stared right into the pie cut eyes of a worn and partially broken Bendy mask.

On the second balcony stood the skeletal frame of the four armed man from before, silently staring at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering "Kind Gottes in der Hutschachtel" means "child of god in a hatbox"


	9. A Pied Piper and an Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems our newcomer has an unusual talent. Let's see what this means for Henry and co.  
> 

Henry silently stared back. None of them moved.

At least they could get a proper look at the masked figure this time, although they really weren’t a pretty sight to behold. Their entire body was shimmering like fresh ink and their bones were clearly visible through their thin black skin making them look just as starved as the monsters from before. Was that even skin? He doubted it. Despite their frail appearance, their straight posture and absolutely ridiculous height were radiating an aura of authority. The cardboard demons next to them were nearly Henry’s height, which again wasn’t that tall, but he usually was about half a head shorter than other men. This guy was towering over them by _two entire_ heads. That was probably why they weren’t actually wearing the suspenders of their too short pants and let them loosely hang at their sides. Said pants were mended in several places and heavily stained with ink. But why weren’t they wearing a shirt? It wasn’t exactly warm in here. 

The most creepy thing about them though was the Bendy mask. The paint was partially chipped away and it was covered in scratches, especially around the mouth hole that had been carved into the demon’s blocky grin. There weren’t any eye holes to see through and yet he could practically feel their gaze boring into them. 

He was just about to open his mouth when they slowly raised one of their lower arms. Ink started to drip from their hand, becoming more and more solid, stretching itself into what looked like a long shaft, until it became wider and rounder at the lower end. It shifted and changed until it took on the form of… a banjo? The instrument was as black as the ink that created it and decorated with golden markings.

“Who are you?”

Just as expected, they didn’t answer, only silently adjusted their hold on the banjo. Henry did the same with his axe. Calmly and otherwise unmoving, they started to pluck away at the strings, playing a simple but very quick and bouncy tune.

It was the melody from before. The one that had played during the attack.

Henry’s eyes immediately scanned the room. Lo and behold, inky puddles were seeping through the boards and the twisted creatures rose from them once more, slowly dragging themselves towards the open door of the sanctuary. 

The masked figure paid no mind to them. They kept on staring at him and the small demon hiding behind his legs.

He could feel Bendy’s grip on his pants tighten. Henry stood his ground. There were more creatures than before, much more, too many for him to handle at once. His best bet was to lure them into the door, thin their numbers and kill them one at a time.

But with each swing he took, with each monster he killed, two more took its place. They came closer and closer and closer, slowly but surely pushing him and the demon he was protecting further into the sanctuary. Their groaning echoed through the hall, getting louder and louder until it was the only thing they could hear. Still, it couldn’t drown out the music. One nearly made it past him, reaching its dripping claw towards the terrified toon, only to get splattered across the wall.

Oh no they wouldn’t. No matter what happened, they wouldn’t get past him. He wouldn’t let them hurt Bendy.

The sound of a flute suddenly joined the horrible chorus, the instrument once again somehow forming in the masked man’s hands. On its own the melody sounded quite beautiful, but mixed with the pained groans of the creatures it became a menacing call, like a bell telling the masses to come join the execution.

He wouldn’t let them hurt Bendy. No matter what happened.

The creatures seemed to get angrier, their attacks becoming more viscous. 

He wouldn’t let them hurt him.

He cut off another claw, taking a step forward.

They wouldn't get past him.

It dodged his next swing, shoving itself into him, biting down on his arm and sinking its inky teeth into his flesh. Ignoring the pain, he slammed it into the wall and knocked it out with his fist.

He would kill them all if that’s what it took to protect the toon.

Two more fell to his axe. He stepped further into the fray.

Protect Bendy. Kill the creatures.

One grabbed his leg, nearly throwing him over. He caught himself on the wall, his tail whipping around and hitting it hard, forcing it to let go.

Protect Bendy. Kill the creatures.

Another swing. Another one dead. Another step forward.

Protect Bendy. Kill the creatures.

Protect. Kill. 

Protect. Kill. 

Protect

_Kill_

**_Kill Kill K i l l_ **

THUNK

The cello lost its neck. Wait what.

Did he just-

THUNK-THUD

Henry finally snapped out of his haze. The strange fog in his head dissipated as abruptly as it had taken its hold, the destruction in front of his eyes suddenly clear as day. The creatures were gone and only a few ink stains remained, most notably one under the thrown over piano. The rest of the once beautiful music hall wasn’t looking any better either. Broken chairs and music stands were scattered about, the tape was lying shattered next to the door and he was pretty sure that those pieces of wood and string over there used to be a violin. Oh, and he had just beheaded the cello.

Wait. Where was Bendy? He called out to the toon, who cautiously peeked out of the sanctuary. His eyes were filled with fear and uncertainty but he looked otherwise unharmed. Just thoroughly rattled. Letting out a sigh of relief, he was just about to walk over to properly check on him but a loud groan stopped him.

The masked figure was lying on the ground of the balcony but they were slowly getting up.

A white gloved hand suddenly grabbed Henry’s arm and yanked him out of the room so fast his world turned into a blur of sepia and black. Next thing he knew he was standing in the small office from before and Bendy was dashing about too quickly for his eyes to follow, grabbing everything he could get his hands on and barricading the door. Not even the painting was safe.

Once every piece of furniture had been shoved in front of the door, the tiny toon flopped against the wall and slowly slid down onto the ground like a deflating balloon.

Henry just stood there, absolutely lost, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. 

“Bendy?” 

The small demon looked over. He seemed to be searching his face for something. Then he was suddenly attached to Henry’s hip, burying his face in his stomach.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? It’s ok. We’re ok. We’re safe now.”

He kneeled down to properly hug the toon, ignoring the pain in his arm and gently rubbing circles over his back. Remembering the gesture from before, he slowly linked his tail with Bendy’s. How this tiny demon had enough strength to squeeze almost all air out of his lungs was beyond him. 

Despite his words, he kept his eyes on the barricaded door, just in case. But nothing happened. He could hear neither footsteps nor groaning nor music, only the creaking of the wooden walls and the quiet whistling of the vents. 

After a few moments, he broke out of the hug, still holding onto the toon.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

**“You’re the one that’s bleeding!”**

“Oh.”

Finally looking at his left lower arm, Henry realized that the bite from before hadn’t just healed in the few minutes of the fight. Instead it had gotten even worse. It was bleeding pretty badly and his blood was already dripping down his wrist and onto the floor. Was it just him or was it darker than it was supposed to be? No, that had to be the light.

He quickly ripped off what was left of his sleeve and wrapped it around the wound, “You know, I never did understand why people always say ‘bite me’.”

Bendy’s tail twitched and he gave him a deadpan look.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. It’s not that big of a wound. Just needs some cleaning and a bandage and I’ll be right as rain in no time.” If only this place had a first aid kit or something. Who knows how much ink had already gotten into the bite from the creature and his dirty clothes really wouldn’t help. If he didn’t die of ink poisoning then it would at the very least turn into a nasty infection. 

Oh out of all the moments for the infirmary to be flooded. 

_Thanks Joey._

Bendy suddenly perked up and hurriedly started to undo his little barricade, shoving the desks back into their place. 

“What are you doing? I thought you put that up to stop the creatures or Masky from coming in?”

**“We’ve been in here for a bit and nothing happened. Maybe they’re gone or looking somewhere else. You said earlier that the infirmary might have stuff to help with injuries so let’s go search there.”**

“Yeah, but it’s flooded, remember?”

**“You turned a valve for the flow, maybe it’s drained now!”**

That was true. It certainly couldn’t hurt to check. 

The last of the chairs was put away and the door was free again. Bendy carefully looked down both sides of the hall. Once he was certain it was clear, he grabbed the axe and Henry’s arm, gently but decisively pulling him along to the infirmary, which was indeed drained and free to enter. Just like before the ink had left almost no marks except a few puddles so hopefully whatever medical supplies it held were clean as well.

As they went down the stairs Henry eyed the sign on the wall above 

“ANYBODY FOUND FAKING ILLNESS WILL BE DOCKED A FULL WEEKS WAGE.”  
“NOT SICK. NOT PAID.”

Considering the many hurdles Joey had set up to prevent people from taking sick leave in the first place, why would anybody want to try and fake illness? 

The infirmary itself seemed to be another hurdle, since it was horribly cramped. The small waiting area in the front held just enough room for a desk and a long row of chairs under a “PLEASE WAIT” sign as well as another set of leaking pipes. He had almost forgotten about the constant surveillance, but the camera hanging on the ceiling made sure to remind him. There was also a table with a gramophone in the opposite corner. At least Joey was kind enough to allow some entertainment in here. The middle of the area was mostly taken up by a large pillar and short flight of stairs leading into the next room which held a large metal bed frame, a coat hanger and a drawer. Two curtains hanging uselessly on the walls and a potted plant standing next to the bed were the only semblance of attempted decoration. Joey also apparently thought that people would want a Bendy cutout staring at them in their sleep or maybe it was supposed to somehow help the eye test chart hanging on the wall next to the bed.

While Bendy went to check the rest of the room Henry inspected the desk. To his disappointment, it was empty but when he turned around the toon was happily holding a wonderfully clean looking first aid kit he had found in the now open drawer. Luckily the bandages and the rubbing alcohol inside were looking just as clean. Since rubbing alcohol had a similar effect on ink as acetone he refused to let Bendy touch it and took care of cleaning the wound himself, even though it hurt like hell. Once it was looking clean enough, Bendy carefully bandaged the bite.

He then sat down next to Henry on the bed frame, leaning into his side and curling his tail around him. Letting the toon relax for a moment, he let his eyes wander around. There was another long stairwell opposite to the bed which had been blocked from view earlier. It was labeled “UTILITY SHAFT 9” and led them further down. So that’s why that sign had been hanging above the stairs after the ritual room. From up here, the only things he could see were some more pipes, a crate and another cutout. There was also a lever at the foot of the bed labeled “UTILITY ACCESS” so the shaft was probably closed off. The long pipe next to the lever was looking like it was missing a valve but he wasn’t sure what it was for. It probably wasn’t too important. Also, who decided to water the plant with bacon soup??

As he sat there, his mind wandered back to the music hall. He still wasn’t sure what had happened back there. He remembered fighting the monsters but then… everything quickly turned into a blur. It was like some sort of thick fog was lying over his memory. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t get through. Why had he destroyed the cello? How had he even ended up on the stage? The only thing he could clearly remember was the music. But there was something else too. A feeling, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was… bloodlust? No that couldn’t be right. He hated hurting people. And yet he definitely remembered it. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Hey Bendy?” He gently poked the small demon, “What happened back in the music hall?”

The demon’s face went from surprise to confusion to worry. **“Do you not remember?”**

Henry just shook his head.

Bendy was quiet for a while, looking at his hands. He kept opening and closing them, like he was trying to find the right words.

**“You went nuts.”**

“Pardon?”

**“I’m not sure what happened exactly but… I think it was the music. I think that masked person was doing something to you with the music. You just… went nuts. Started destroying the room. You kil- got rid of the creatures first so I didn’t notice immediately but once they were gone you just kept on destroying stuff. It was scary. And then the person got annoyed I think? They whistled suddenly and you reacted to that. You looked over but I don’t think you saw me. You just went back to destroying the furniture. I didn’t know what to do because you were so nice before and protected me but you were acting so weird suddenly and your eyes were weird and the person was still watching and I was so scared and confused so I threw a violin at them. They dodged but you stopped for a moment so I threw another and knocked them out. That’s when you came back I think. You called me and when I looked your eyes were back to normal.”**

Henry was silent for a moment, slowly taking in what Bendy had said. So not only was someone in here who could do a mind control of sorts, but they were also after them for a reason they didn’t know. Wonderful.

“What do you mean my eyes were weird?”

**“They were black.”**

He had no idea how to respond to that. It was disconcerting to say the least. Then again so was that entire experience. 

He took a deep breath, “Thank you.” He gave the toon a grateful smile. “That was incredibly brave of you and I don’t think I would have made it out of there without your help. You really saved my skin there.”

Bendy looked at him relieved, then hugged him again. **“I’m glad you’re back to normal.”**

He chuckled and returned the hug, “So am I, buddy, so am I. But I’m even more glad that I didn’t hurt you back there. And that none of those creatures got to you either.”

Even after they broke out of the hug, they continued to sit there for another bit, with Bendy curled into him.

He wasn’t sure if he liked how quickly he was getting attached to the toon. After all, he still didn’t know what he truly was, where he had come from or, more importantly, just how long he would stay by his side.

They rested in the infirmary for a few more minutes before they headed back to Sammy’s office. But it turned out that the missing valve in the infirmary was important after all and the pipes were still leaking. Since the only place left to explore was the utility shaft, that’s where they went. 

Pulling the “UTILITY ACCESS” lever rewarded them with the familiar clattering of a gate opening at the foot of the stairwell, where the path once again split in two. The words “DOWN HERE WE’RE ALL SINNERS” greeted them from the stone walls to the right while the left side was blocked off with a large grid. 

Just as he was about to enter the right path, Henry caught a familiar shadow in the corner of his eye. He immediately grabbed Bendy and pulled him back onto the stairs, signing “Masked man” and pointing to the left.

They stayed quiet, hoping that they hadn’t been noticed. Luckily, the tunnel was flooded ankle high with ink, so Masky would make a lot of noise if they moved any closer.

Nothing. Except the sound of their own breathing.

Carefully, he risked another look through the grid. Masky themselves were actually standing around the corner, so he really had seen just their shadow. They weren’t moving. 

As quietly as he could, he crouched down, gesturing for Bendy to climb onto his shoulders. The toon wouldn’t be able of wading through the ink flood on his own but he couldn’t carry him with his hurt arm either. He also wanted both hands on his axe right now. Once he was sitting safely and had a good hold on the man, Henry did his best to sneak around the corner and into what he now realized were the sewers. 

The moment he stepped into the ink, sneaky time was over, but when he looked back, Masky still hadn’t moved. With each splashing step he could feel the toon stiffening and his tail wrap around his arm. Since he didn’t want to risk scaring himself again, especially with the small devil on his shoulders, he did the same with his own tail as well.

The sewers turned out to be large stone tunnels, lined with many vents to take care of the inky stench. To his relief ink seemed to be the only thing coming out of the large pipe to his right. It was bad enough that his clothes were completely ink stained, he really didn’t want the other stuff soaking through his shoes. There was also another, smaller pipe coming out of the bigger one, although this one was attached to the ceiling and following the winding path to the left. This one was also boarded up, but it was nothing he couldn’t get through.

As he got closer, Bendy suddenly started patting his head really quickly and pointed towards something behind the boards. It was another one of the creatures. However, it was much bigger than the others and instead of being downright skeletal, it looked swollen, kind of like a balloon covered in ink. At least it didn’t have any extra arms. For whatever reason, it was also wearing an old, yellow bowler hat. Guess this one had a sense of fashion.

More important, however, was the valve it was holding.

When it heard them approach, it abruptly flinched back and immediately vanished beneath the ink with a soft splash. Not a single groan or moan had come out of its throat.

Both he and Bendy were a bit baffled at the unexpected behaviour but after a moment of staring at the spot the creature had dived into, he decided to chop up the boards and follow it. They needed the valve and if it’s first instinct was to flee instead of fight maybe they could avoid another slaughter.

Speaking of slaughter, as they rounded a corner they found another camera hanging above a “THE SHEEP WILL COME TO SLAUGHTER” mural. Wasn’t that missing a “the”? No matter, the small alcove they soon found in the right wall was a bit more interesting. It was slightly elevated so it thankfully wasn’t flooded. Strangely, a desk and a chair stood in it, right beneath another pipe, together with a violin, a soup can and another audio log. There were music sheets scattered about, some filled with notes, some completely empty. Why would anybody want to work down here? 

Jack Fain apparently, at least that was the name on the log. Oh right, Norman had mentioned him spending a lot of time down here. The quiet and kind lyricist had been brought into their group by Sammy who had known him since his childhood. Their families were pretty rich and often met at grand celebrations or the like and since the two had both preferred the quiet corners they had quickly grown attached to one another. Jack had even moved in with him after getting disowned for being bisexual. Although their relationship was a purely platonic one as they considered each other siblings. He may have been a sunshine person, but he had a real _waspy_ sense of fashion and would usually wear his signature yellow bowler hat with a black suit and yellow tie. Other than that, he had a love for the most tacky ties and shirts. 

A horrible thought hit him. They were most likely dealing with black magic and human sacrifice here. There had been coffins in the ritual room after all. Bendy was a living being made from ink. What if…

No. He pushed the thought away.

_I love the quiet, and that’s hard to come by these busy times._

_And yeah sure, it may stink to high heaven down here, but it’s just perfect for a lyricist like me. Sammy’s songs always got some bounce, but, uh, if I didn’t get away once in a while they’d never have any words to go with them._

_So I’ll keep my mind a-singing and, uh, my nose closed._

That explained why he sounded like he had a stuffy nose. 

Before they continued, Henry gently picked up the scattered papers and sorted them into neat stacks that he put onto the table next to the log. Bendy was watching in slight confusion but didn’t ask about it.

After that point, they only needed to round one more corner to reach a large utility station. Here the ceiling was no longer solid stone but covered by large grids with nothing but darkness above them. The big pipe they had been following ended in a large, cylindrical boiler standing on the left, which was also connected to another one on the right. Both had small levers on them. The left one was marked with an arrow pointing up and the activated one on the right with a downwards pointing one. Right between the boilers stood the swollen creature. It was hunched over and didn’t seem to be looking at anything, almost like it was dozing off. Behind it a small, crate filled lift was hanging from the ceiling from large chains. 

Looks like they had the element of surprise, until the loud sloshing woke it up at least. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. What he couldn’t avoid in noise, he tried to make up by slowly inching closer, stopping at even the tiniest, inky shift. 

He felt kind of bad for trying to ambush it, since it didn’t seem to bear any ill will towards him or Bendy, but they _really_ needed that valve. 

He unwrapped his tail from his arm and adjusted the grip on his axe. Just one more step.

_Splash_

It startled awake, spinning around and staring right at him. It took a second to register him, giving him the opening he needed to strike it down.

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

It vanished beneath the ink again.

He lowered the axe with a sigh. A soft splashing from the right corner of the room, right next to the exit made him perk up. Bendy started to bounce on his shoulders a little and pointed into that direction as well.

It seemed the creature didn’t fancy leaving this particular spot and had merely decided to relocate within the room.

His gut turned a little. They needed the valve, they really did, but he knew he wouldn’t be able of dealing the killing blow on an unsuspecting and peaceful being. 

Especially if that really was who he thought it was.

Bendy patted his head and signed something, but he couldn’t turn his head enough to see what. So he just mouthed “what”. He went quiet for a moment, looking a bit frustrated and confused, looking around the room. He then pointed towards the lever with the “up”-arrow, which Henry obediently pulled. The lift activated and rattled loudly as the chains pulled it up until it was high enough for a grown man to stand under. This also revealed the words “SING WITH ME” painted onto the wall behind it. No thanks. He would much rather see what the “down”-arrow would do. Probably make the lift come down.

And that it did. But unlike expected, it didn’t lower slowly. No. I just dropped down so hard the following WAMM nearly busted his ear drums.

It really surprised him that the inky being still hadn’t left the room.

But at least it gave him an idea. The devil on his shoulders seemed to be thinking the same thing although he didn’t act particularly enthusiastic about it either. He pointed at the creature, which had moved into the left corner when he had come closer to pull the switch, then towards the spot right beneath the lift and finally at the “down”-lever.

But getting the swollen being there was a different story entirely. It kept moving from the left to the right corner the moment he stepped too close and it took several attempts of going back and forth until it finally reappeared under the lift. Once it was there, he hesitated for another moment. Wasn’t there another way? He couldn’t think of anything, so he forced himself to pull the lever, dropping the lift and instantly crushing the creature. Only the valve and hat remained.

He carefully crouched down, handed Bendy the valve and then picked up the hat, “I’m sorry I had to do that old friend. I hope you can forgive me.”

He could feel Bendy hug his head as best as he could from his spot.

On their way back, he gently placed it on the desk, right beside Jack’s audio log.

  
  


Back in the infirmary it wasn’t difficult to reattach the valve. Once Henry was done Bendy excitedly gave it a hard spin. When they had left the sewers, Masky’s shadow had been nowhere in sight and now that he had solid wood under his feet again, the demon was back to his bouncy behaviour. Still, the music incident had left its mark. Even though his tail was in the curious question mark shape again, it wasn’t raised as high as before and his eyes kept flickering about the halls nervously.

At least they could finally get into Sammy’s office now and flip the pump switch. While Henry did exactly that, the demon hopped over to inspect the desk, which was standing right below a “IT’S TIME TO BELIEVE” mural. By now all signs pointed towards some kind of cult, so it didn’t surprise him that much. He shoved the worry down again. They were almost out. Besides, the ink machine blueprints on the desk were a lot more interesting. A lot of the pages were missing and they ones they did have only described how to assemble it. Judging by the signature, Joey had tasked Wally to build it. So he had finally gotten a chance to use that mechanic knowledge he had worked so hard for. It had taken a lot of convincing but the insecure janitor had joined a course to learn more about the job he had actually wanted to work for shortly before Henry had left. 

Sadly, the animator didn’t understand as much about machinery as him and Bendy was just looking as confused as he was. It was a bit odd to see him with furrowed eyebrows. Which he technically didn’t even have. The toon suddenly shook his head rapidly, like he was trying to shake some thought away, and it was even accompanied by a cartoony tin rattling noise. 

“You okay?”

Bendy nodded, although Henry wasn’t convinced. He then started to fold up the prints which earned him a confused look from the demon.

“I don’t know exactly what this thing is but my gut tells me it’s incredibly important. I saw it up top and the entire place was laid out in a way that practically told me to turn it on. But once I did everything went downhill. There’s also ink pipes everywhere, entire hallways are flooded with the stuff, you’re made of ink, the creatures were made of ink and even Masky looked like they were made from it. And that’s not even counting the whispering. Whatever this _ink_ machine does, it has something to do with what happened here. And I plan to find out what. It may only be a few pages of many but it’s still something. I can’t make heads or tails with this but I’m sure I can find someone who can help us once we get out.”

Maybe, just maybe, he could finally find out what had happened all those years ago. Maybe he could finally find out where his friends had gone. But no way was he going to investigate on his own, not with all the creatures down here. Since the blue prints didn’t fit in his pocket he handed them to the toon to hold on to, so he had both hands free for his axe.

Before they left, Bendy decided to turn on the radio, which was a bit quieter than the one on the first floor. The tune it played was completely different but equally as catchy. While watching Bendy dance to it again, he noticed a copy of Joey’s “The illusion of living” in the trash can. Why would he give Sammy a book about animation? Or maybe it had belonged to someone else. Who knew, it had been thirty years after all.

After a few minutes of playing, the song ended rather abruptly as static took over the radio. 

“Hey now, don’t pull that long face. You look so much better when it’s round. And I have a lot more songs like that at home. So we better _step_ to it and get to that exit!”, as he said that, he performed a quick step dance step in an attempt to cheer the disappointed toon up.

It worked and with a bounce to their step but an eye on the halls, they left the office. He tried to calm the excitement blooming in his chest. Oh he couldn’t wait to get home and finally see Linda again. Lacie, Cecilia, Grace and Flora too. He just wanted to wrap his arms around them and never let go. But they weren’t out yet. So it was better to quit the premature celebration. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder just how lon he had been gone or how they would react to Bendy. Hedge, would they even believe this story?

His thoughts were cut short by a hard metal object hitting his head from behind. A sharp pain shot through his skull, his vision blurred and his legs gave out under him. A soft thud lightly shook the ground as Bendy fell unconscious beside him.

“-sheep sheep, it’s time for sleep.”

Sammy?

He groaned. Tried to turn his head. His vision kept fading in and out. The masked figure stood above him, holding… a dustpan?

“Rest your head, it’s time for bed. In the morning you may wake, or in the morning _you’ll be dead_.”

Henry’s world went black.


	10. a note to all readers

I would like to thank everybody who has made it this far and those that have been here for a while. Your continued comments, the kudos and watching the Hit-counter going up mean so _ so _ much to me. It makes my day whenever I check in on this work.

That being said, I’m officially putting the au on a hiatus.

It’s the reason why I’m putting this message as a new chapter, instead of a note, since I want to make sure you guys see it. 

When I recently decided to completely rework the worldbuilding for magic and magical creatures outside the studio, I realized that there’s still way too many things undecided, too many details missing and too many characters without proper characterization. And unless I want to keep rewriting and rewriting everything I have written so far, I need to finish the base  _ first.  _

Which is what I am doing now. It will take a while, that much I can say, especially since I cannot work on this project full time. I have a job that takes up a lot of my time and this au is something I’ve created **to relax and have fun.**

I very much plan to continue this work.

Luckily, I’m not that far into the writing  _ yet _ , so most of what I’ve written so far will only be affected by small changes. The devil lies in the details after all. Still, chapter 1 and 2 will be completely rewritten since I’ve done a complete u-turn on the out-studio lore. I plan on partially remaking chapter 3 as well but the changes will mostly concern the writing.

The base of the au, centering around the break room symbols, Bendy accompanying Henry as well as Sammy’s powers  _ will  _ stay the same. The personalities of all revealed characters so far won’t be changed either.

Thank you all for understanding.

rubinjuwel

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta reader and English isn't my first language constructive criticism and pointing out writing or grammar mistakes is very much appreciated.  
> I also do not have a prosthetic myself. I did my best to do some research but if any of you have personal experience, I would very much appreciate feedback, tipps or corrections.


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